Well, Hey There Old Friend
This morning I woke up early. Really early. Killed some time in bed.....got bored....went to the office by about 5am. Perused the news, felt broken and sad. Moved over to YouTube and went through my everyday normal stuff, some mediation, some golf, Stephen Colbert, Jimmy Kimmel, Seth Myers and Trevor Noah. While they are all very funny hosts, it isn't uplifting to hear a recap of what is going on in the country at the moment.
Shifted to music and, somehow, this came on:
And suddenly it is a hot summer day and I am walking, not yet driving age, my legs are long and very thin, I weigh all of 85 lbs, brown hair, long and kind of wavy but prone to frizz. I have freckles and a deep sense of not belonging, as we had not been living in the house, that was situation one block down that street, for very long. The street is called Oceanview but the ocean view was only afforded to the haves that lived above Foothill. The have nots, down below that wide divide, had to settle for the thick smog layer hovering over downtown Los Angeles in the distance to the south.
Located at the center of the picture is a small auto repair shop. It was owned and operated by a 40ish man, with a dirty old pair of crutches, as he was an amputee from the knee down. I cannot for the life of me remember how he lost his leg. Weird because I knew quite well and it's on the tip of my fingers but just out of reach. I am leaning towards Nam but I am not sure. Either way, it did not slow him down. He was under cars, over cars and getting around the shop better than most. He was, by outwards appearance and demeanor, what I would call that stereotypical New Jersey Italian man, heavily accented and spoke with great animation; large nose, scruffy beard. What he was was a sweetie. Caring and thoughtful, he listened and gave a skinny outsider a sense of belonging. I wish I could have thanked him. I eventually left La Crescenta and rarely came back. Then one day it was gone.
Sweet angels walk the earth. May I always try to be one.
Thanks Al, for taking the time for a girl who needed a friend.
A lovely tribute to a bygone friend in times of need. "Annie's Song" was always a fave of mine too.
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DeleteWe are no longer watching anything. We know just enough because the world we live in it is impossible not to know. A part of us feels irresponsible to not watch every minute of covid-19 and our racist presidents behavior that has caused us all so much pain. But it came for a time of needing self care. This has made one of us physically ill. But neither doing great. AND Al sounds like a family member. :-)
ReplyDeleteI get it. I really do.
DeleteGreat memory of an angel who used crutches.
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DeleteWe never know when something we do, some small gesture, maybe even just listening or affirming, can perhaps even change a life. I believe these encounters are meant to be and I'm glad you had one when you needed it most.
ReplyDeleteMe too!
DeleteWhat a beautiful memory and tribute to a friend of the heart. I love your description of your young self. Thank you for writing this and reminding me to listen to John Denver.
ReplyDeleteJohn Denver had such a lovely voice and he makes his singing look so effortless, as if it's just a part of him.
ReplyDeleteMrs. Opden Dries is the woman who made me feel at home. Her door was always open, her house usually a mess with laundry and six kids. She was welcoming.
What a wonderful memory to have, there are angels everywhere and we never know when we will cross paths with one.
ReplyDeletecool story. and he sounded like a nice guy.
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