What Y2K has done for me

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When I GI'd last year, I determined this year I would slow down and savor life as I presently know it like a fine, ephemeral fragrance that will soon dissipate....I've spent more time visiting my mom and dad, brothers, cousins,etc., etc., in other states, just soaking up and enjoying their company and conversation, taking note of every line in their faces, the color of their eyes, like a man just rescued from a deserted island starved for human interaction....I've taken the time to stop and smell the roses in every aspect of my daily life; even drove down to Key West for a long weekend to visit my son just to spend some time with him. Its like knowing you have a terminal disease, and you really want to focus and experience to the fullest every remaining moment available. If nothing else good comes from Y2K, it has brought a fresh appreciation; a gratitude for the goodness I have taken for granted for years; and a new dynamic perspective of the precious lives all around me. I feel a serenity, a sense of completeness, and a joy that the impending troubles coming our way cannot diminish. Even so, Come, Lord Jesus!!

-- Jay Urban (jurban@berenyi.com), October 13, 1999

Answers

. . . and the punch line is . . .?

-- Puddintame (achillesg@hotmail.com), October 13, 1999.

Yes, Jay, right on!

-- Ashton & Leska in Cascadia (allaha@earthlink.net), October 13, 1999.

Jay,

You've found a good place. God bless you.

Sincerely, Stan Faryna

-- Stan Faryna (faryna@groupmail.com), October 13, 1999.


Jay, just this morning I was thinking about inviting folks here to sit around the virtual campfire and swap stories about thier "Balcony People." The man who told me about Balcony People is one of mine.

He explained that he thinks of those certain people you chance to meet in life as sitting in the balcony of his mind. You know, they're the one's who make a lasting, inspiring impression on you. The gems that you keep in your heart to add meaning to your journey.

Whenever he's down or stuck, he told me, he lets himself slowly scan them until his inner gaze lands a gentle focus on one remembered face. Then he'll think about that person, and what he or she said or did or was like.

So many here, present and past, have become balcony people for me, trolls, doomers, and mugwumps alike. There's even a spot for the Silent Ones who lurk and learn here. I just found myself fantasizing, as I brushed my teeth, about a thread where we swapped stories about some of the best personal times we have had so far. I thought it would be a spirit-nourishing break as we head ever deeper into the turbulence before us.

And this afternoon, I see that you just walked right in with that panoramic view of some of your balcony people, balcony moments. The high lights in your life. Cool! Thanks. Made me softly smile and feel good inside.

Anybody else have a tale about a balcony person, or moment, in your life? Floor's open.

-- Faith Weaver (suzsolutions@yahoo.com), October 13, 1999.


Hmmm. Maybe this would quailify as one. I rode across the desert one fine morning, on my way back from fire camp. I did a stupid thing and let my motorcycle run out of gas. Switching to reserve I managed to find a lonely station in the middle of nowhere. It appeared that I was 1/2 hour early for the station to open, so I sat down to wait. 45 minutes later, nobody shows up so I start to wander around. There's a kid 17 something, sleeping on the floor inside. I rap on the window and he wakes up, looks at me and goes back to sleep! I shout through the glass that I'm out of gas and can't leave until he helps me, but no response. This is very strange I think.

About this time, the focus of this true story drives up in an old bluee truck. A man steps out and I tell him that the stations closed, but there's some kid inside who won't wake up and open the station up. He walks over, takes a look and knocks on the window too. No response. I let him know I'm out of gas and can't leave. The man offers to help and says that he'd be willing to drive to the next town and bring me some gas. I accept, but first, we go around back (I was past the point of caring) and siphon some gas from a three wheeler. This get's my bike started and we head off.

About ten miles later, the bike dies for good and I pull off the road. Bill goes on ahead to the next town, buy gas and returns. We get the bike going again and I agree to meet Bill in town.

I buy him lunch and a tank of gas for his help and he tells me his life story. He'd been a Benadictine monk, and had to leave the monastary because of his dad's illness. He never went back but later on became a painter (the house type). His business was very successful and he'd hired a few people to help on. Against his better judgement he'd hired a man who was a bit unsavory. This proved to be right.

Bill was kidnapped by this man and very badly beaten. Under torture they forced him to write checks from his business account, which this creep and his friends went out and cashed. The talked openely of burying him in the desert and when he got his chance, Bill escaped. His left eye was dangling from his socket and he had a difficult time navigating direction, but he did managed to run off.

Eventually, the perps were all caught and Bill testified. They threatened to kill him, but he went through with it. They landed behind bars and Bill left town for good. That's when he ran into me in the desert with no gas.

I invited Bill home and a place to live. He declined, but did come over for dinner a few times. He also left me with a pile of books that were just getting wet in the back of his uncovered pickup.

He got a job in Salt Lake and we talked from time to time. He told me about his years in the Special Forces and gave me some very well needed advice. He was also a mercencary for some years after the Army and I think this may have eventually drove him into the monastary.

Bill was the real thing and I'll never forget him. One day he just disappeared and I've never heard from him since. I think about him from time to time and hope he's still alive. I remember his advice and the look in his eyes when he would share his experiences, ranging from drug runs for our government (no kidding) to spiritual encounters in the monastary. What a guy.

-- I remember Bill (lifeofliberty@yahoo.com), October 14, 1999.



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