One thing about my life, I have seen a lot of folks come and go, so far this week, it has been 3 people. Between my old life choices and my 'office' per say now, I see a lot of death. I know that in many ways, I have come to terms with it, and yet, I still remember my first first hand witness to it. There is the realization of the true frailty of life, how little it takes to cease to exist on this plain. I have had the experience of telling many folks that their loved one has passed on, and everything around that measure. It is life, the sad truth, when we are born, we start heading towards death. Okay, I'm not trying to sound too grim reaperish, but, it's the truth. We live and then we die, and hopefully in between we make an imprint on the world. This week three folks in my circle died, how I inherited a 5 lb. long haired Chihuahua named Brandi, which is good for a grin when both me, and my 150 lb. American Bulldog Chopper have not figured out exactly how to deal with her.... so... yeah... 3....
Like John Wayne Garbow, or, Johnny Goodheart, Johnny the vet, or my brother John. My friend Daniel told me of his passing while we were walking around downtown St. Paul. Johnny had his ups and owns, but he would have an upbeat outlook on life. He would say, 'You know why I'm on the streets right? Cuz, not all of me came back from Vietnam... oh sure... my body came back, but my mind...but I can survive out here, most can't.' I would ask him, 'Why don't you hit the VA Johnny?' He would simply reply, 'Cuz I can survive out here, others can't.' In that, knowing Johnny's heart, the translation, other guys need more help than me, and I ain't gonna take up a bed that they need. We would sit out anywhere we found a place to sit, the circle, rice park, the bottoms, here there and anywhere we just happened to run into each other, and I would listen to my elder.
He always had a presence, he wore an old weather beaten trucker style hat with 'Vietnam Veteran' across the brim with his long silver hair always combed the best he could, and ponytailed underneath., a beaten jean jacket with the words 'smile, Jesus loves you' painstakingly written across the back, a slight figure, most would often look right past him. He walked with a cane, but still walked almost regally. The truth is, when you took the time to look at his face, you would see a weathered face, his grey beard was always decently well kept, and angled well on his jawline, and then you would see his eyes, it was a rarity because he always wore sunglasses, but when you saw his eyes, piercing steel blue, with this solidness to them, saying they had seen so much, way too young, and yet, there was kindness, compassion, caring, and most of all love. A love for his fellow man that few understand. Here's just one example.
I was walking along one day, and there was Johnny, sitting alongside the road, his cane nowhere to be found, 'how ya doin Johnny?'. 'I'm doin allright Preach, how you?' Johnny replied, looking this way and that. I asked him how he was doing, and how his day was, he told me things were cool and make sure that I thanked God for the beautiful day. At this point, knowing where he lived, and knowing where he hung out, I asked him, what in the wide world of sports was he doing way out here. You see, we were out by the old salt mines in St. Paul, which is a good mile from Listening house, or 'Johnny's Pad'. 'Ya know Preach, it's one of them things, ya see, I was walking along with my cane, and it was such a beautiful day, that I figured I'd keep goin'.' 'Okay', I replied,'so where's your cane, I know you didn't limp all the way this way without it.' To which he replied, 'gave it away.', so nonchalantly that I thought he was kidding me, til he told me a story about him walking along on the beautiful day, and seeing a gentleman who was older than he walking along who seemed in desperate need of a can as he was struggling from handrail to handrail to get somewhere. So Johnny, in his time old wisdom, decided that this man needed it more than him.
'So how long you been sittin here Johnny?' 'Three Hours.' 'Why did you hand your cane off more than a mile from home?' 'Figured God would find me some help home' 'So how's that working out for ya?' to which he removed his sun glasses and looked at me with his eyes dancing in the sunlight and replied, 'You're here, aren't ya?' I stood there in my foolishness, my brother had said hello to Captain Obvious, and I was there to witness. As we walked the mile back to his spot we laughed and spoke of the good times and bad, past Sevilles, all the way down 7th till we just crossed over Kellogg. We said our goodbyes that day, and often laughed of that day afterwards. Mutt and Jeff, ambling their way along. We will cry because you died, but we will also smile because you lived. I'm betting you handed your cane off on the way to heaven too, but this time there were angels to carry you home.
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