Fragments

I got another email from my childhood friend, and once again am completely stunned at how that even through months of no communication, we still swim in the same pool of musings and wander the same forests of complicated philosophical thoughts. As I read this first extensive communication from him in so long, I found myself more than once wanting to smack my hand on the table and yell, “YES! Exactly!” Isn’t it interesting that he has been turning the same thoughts and revelations over in his head lately as I?

I don’t particularly believe in reincarnation, but some bonds, few and far between, are so strong and timeless that I have to believe we knew each other before we were born – as our souls waited in Heaven to be distributed to their respective human bodies and paths on Earth. Occasionally you can recognize these souls, as a feeling that you’ve known someone forever that you may have only met a few days or even hours ago. If you are really lucky, you’ll find one early, and manage to hang on to them throughout the tempest that life becomes.

I have this rhetoric on my list of things I want to ask God about when I die.

My soul-brother’s comments were so poignant to all that I have lately struggled with placing into words both here and quietly to myself, that I am tempted to cut and paste damn near the entire email right here and now. But that wouldn’t be right. These were thoughts that I’m sure were meant to be shared only between us, and that way they will remain.

Thus, in lieu – since I can’t seem to construct anything to write about of value, detail, or particular interest – I offer a quote a la mode. (My new expression for quote of the day – since everything’s better with ice cream. Well, maybe not everything. Liver and onions with ice cream would be gross, but that is a submission for a post from a few weeks ago. But you get my point.)

This quote comes from a gentleman I met last night at the boat ramp. I was minding the boat as the Hub worked on the trailer, and this kindly fellow was fishing off the dock. He was an older man with a rather large but well-groomed white beard, wearing bib overalls, a t-shirt with a fishing cartoon on it, and a straw hat. Not a Huck Finn type hat, but a white straw hat with a bilious band – the kind you see on men that are hip deep in “new money”, upper crust yet not quite millionaire.

He looked a lot like Uncle Jesse.

Being in the same place at the same time, we got to chatting idly. In the course of our exchanges, my new acquaintance mentioned he’s retired and loving it. That led to a story about his friend, also retired, who has had trouble finding meaning in his new role. He’d been feeling rather useless, and called 911 the other night to tell them he didn’t feel his life was worth living anymore. To that I responded, my goodness, I hate to hear he thinks that way. And Uncle Jesse said, “Me too! Because … ~

“Well, I happen to think my life is worth quite a lot. Or else the Good Lord wouldn’t’ve made me.”

Well said.