A Guy I Met on a Bus
I met a guy on a bus.
I was on a military site visit which wasn’t anything extraordinary. We were a group of sixty people on two buses
for four days. We got to know the people
seated next to us pretty well.
The guy I met on the bus cheerfully started my day with,
“Good morning, sunshine,” which is an expression that my dear friend regularly
uses, adding an air of familiarity. The
gentleman was in his 60’s and we began the conversation with an exchange of
“where are you from?” leading to other details like family and travel.
The guy I met on the bus spoke fondly of his wife of many
years; a former stock car race driver who had won so many events that she had
decided to stop, as it was “getting too easy”.
She now drives a Corvette; he, a ‘57 Chevy. They have a daughter who was thrown out of
school for fighting; she just loved to fight, he laughed. She fought so hard that she managed to get an
undergraduate degree in economics and a master’s degree in marketing. He spoke of the power of women and how proud
he was of his wife and daughter; although he didn’t need to say much as he
beamed just mentioning them. They live
in Nevada and
he travels around the world. I told him
that I thought he had an enviable life and he admitted that yes, it is pretty
good.
The guy I met on the bus has lived a healthy life. He was obviously fit and talked about his
disregard for people who smoke. He had
been diagnosed with type 2 diabetes and believes it came about after being
exposed to Agent Orange in Vietnam . He humorously chastised another rider on the
bus, a fellow diabetic, for eating candy on the trip. “Let me see that package,” became the trip
mantra. We laughed and had good
conversation as the hours passed traveling all over Kuwait .
The guy I met on the bus is an executive from a security
services provider with contracts in Iraq . “We don’t go in with guns blazing,” he said,
“We take the quieter, lower-key approach.
You might not have heard of us.
We’re not Blackwater.” Good for
them. Perhaps we all need a quieter
approach.
The guy I met on the bus took the time to talk to
low-ranking soldiers on the visits and finding out a little about their
lives. We weren’t supposed to, but it
didn’t dissuade him from discreetly paying for the soldier in line behind him
at the lunch line; as was his habit.
As we passed through the desert on a very dusty day, we
talked about aging and the importance of calling your parents. “They don’t need your money. They probably don’t need your time. They don’t need much at all, but a phone call
once in a while to let them know that you love them. I tell my young people at work all the time
to call their parents; even if it is ten minutes on my company’s money, I don’t
care. I just want them to know how
important it is. Call your parents.” I wondered how this lesson would have
affected me at a younger age if delivered by someone who I considered to be a
mentor. I am sure that his employees
must be affected by this and how it would most likely have a carry-over affect
to other compassionate acts in their lives.
They must be very loyal employees, I imagined.
I got off the bus and quickly called my mother just to say
hello and tell her how much I love her.
She knows, but I tell her again and again at every opportunity.
I thought about the current economic situation and all the
inhumanity around me all of a sudden.
There have been waves of unkindness and indifference. This gentleman (and it is unfortunate to note
that I use that term sparingly these days) reminded me that it isn’t universal;
people do care. Sometimes you meet
people and they are there to teach you some valuable lessons in life; or
perhaps just to make you recall true decency.
I try to listen to voices in a variety of packages; as you never know
where the major life lessons will come from.
In this case, it might just have been from a guy I met on a bus.
1 comment:
DG:
What a wonderful life story and a very important life lesson. Thanks for sharing this story.
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