SINS OF THE PAST

SINS OF THE PAST

They say you can’t run from your past, and I guess that’s true, but that didn’t stop me from trying for the last 20 years. I can’t tell you how many times I prayed that I could change that one day in my past, but it still haunts me. I’ve decided today, I’m turning myself in, I’ll take my medicine, I’m tired of running.

It’s not like I planned to be a criminal, in fact I had never even gotten a speeding ticket up to that point. In fact, it all started when I decided that I couldn’t take another day of this darn freezing Maine weather. Honestly, it was just like that, I decided to pack my stuff and head south for warmer weather. Looking back, it wasn’t the smartest thing I ever did. I quit my lousy part time job, packed everything I had into my Backpack and started my journey south.

The funny thing was that I did not know where I was going or what I would do when I got there. I knew I didn’t have enough money to get all the way to Florida, but figured I would take a bus as far south as I could and then just hitch hike the rest of the way. An hour latter I was buying a ticket at the Grey Hound bus station and was on my way.

I soon discovered that I didn’t like traveling on a bus very much, it was cramped and seemed to stop at every hole in the wall town along the way. However, I had been to Florida once with some friends and it was a happy experience. We went down to see a race and with 3 of us driving it was only a 24 hour trip by car. This time it seemed like the Grey Hound driver was determined to make it a 2 week crawl. In any case, the long trip gave me plenty of time to think and the more I thought about my decision the more I found myself second guessing it.

The longer I sat in that cramped up seat, the more anxious and angry I became. It seemed like all my hostility was raising to the surface. The only good thing about the trip was that we were heading south and with each state we passed, I could feel the temperature gradually getting warmer.

After what seemed like an eternity, I finally fell into a deep sleep, but even that was interrupted by the driver tapping me on the shoulder. This was the end of the line for me, Colleton South Carolina. I pulled the now well worn ticket from my pocket to verify that this was as far south as my meager purchase would take me. That was it, Colleton, fate has a funny way of dealing you an unexpected hand, but hell, Colleton, who would ever voluntarily choose a place like this.

I just stood there for a moment in the cool winter morning, and watched as the bus pulled back on the highway and soon disappeared in traffic. I pulled out my wallet and did a quick accounting of the money I had left. I’m not really sure why I even looked because I had just checked at the last stop, and sure enough I had the same $27.50 that I had last night. My instincts told me to hang onto every dollar till I got to Florida, but my stomach had other plans, so I walked across the street to the small restaurant for some breakfast.

As I walked across the dirt parking lot, I noticed the place wasn’t very busy. There were a few dusty pick up trucks and a tricked out motorcycle parked out front. I remember thinking to myself that this place was no Denny’s restaurant, but all I wanted was a few strong cups of coffee and a few scrambled eggs anyway.

When I walked in the door, I got some bad vibes form the few patrons that were already seated. I looked for a table facing the door so that I would not have to look any of them in the eye. The place had maybe 10 tables and most of them seemed to still have dirty dishes on them, so I decided to sit at the counter next to the guy with the leather jacket on. As I set down I glanced over to my right and was greeted with a cold stare down from this dude that looked like a Hell’s Angle. The waitress brought me over a huge cup of hot coffee, that looked more like a soup bowl with a handle and I ordered my breakfast. After a few uncomfortable minutes of silence while I was waiting for my food, I decided to break the ice and ask if that was his motorcycle out front.

I guess, I picked the one topic that we both had in common, because he immediately lightened the tone and we struck up a conversation. I told him that I worked part time at a motorcycle shop up north as a mechanic and complimented him on his ride. We probably talked shop for around 25 or 30 minutes before I asked for my check and headed for the door.

When I reached the parking lot, it dawned on me that I really didn’t know where I was heading or how to get there. I set my backpack down on one of the two rocking chairs out front and dug out my light jacket. I was just zipping up my backpack when my buddy from the counter walked out the door. He mentioned that he had a few motorcycles back at his place that needed to be repaired and asked if I wanted to take on the job. I have to admit I felt quite uneasy about the whole thing but for the first time in my life, I really wasn’t in any rush and didn’t have any better thing to do.

We decided that I could probably knock out the work in 4 or 5 days and that he would pay me $200 plus allow me to sleep out in his barn until the job was finished. I have to tell you I felt uneasy as hell about this whole arrangement but I sorely need the cash and decided to take the risk. We shook hands on the deal and soon I was riding on the back of his bike and on our way out to the job.

Just as promised I worked on the bikes and had them up and running and both in top shape in 3 days. I was told that I’d have my money and a ride back into town around 5 P.M. which would give me just enough time to catch the last bus of the day heading south.

Jim showed up just as promised around 4:45, but he was drunk and belligerent as hell. It seems that since I finished the job quicker than expected, he was only willing to pay me $100. Well, that didn’t set well with me and our discussion soon turned into a full scale argument. I stood my ground and refused to leave without the money I was promised and as tempers flared, I soon found my self standing at the business end of one big bowie knife.

At that point I decided to swallow my pride, take my loss and just move on, but it seems like I had lost my bargaining position. I threatened to call the police and turned to walk away when I felt the cold steel blade rip through my jacket. Instinctively I grabbed a tire iron off the work bench behind me a swung it widely in the direction of the blade. Well, I missed his arm, but found his head, and soon the wrench and my arm were covered with blood.

I tore off my jacket and buried it in the trash can and cleaned up as well as I could. In a panic I grabbed the thick leather wallet from my assailants back pocket. Of course he had one of those biker chains attaching the wallet to his belt, so I just grabbed the cash and a few credit cards and headed for the door. Heck, I was just a kid and now I was a felon on the run. And I ran, I ran like a criminal and did not look back.

Well, I used that money to get myself to Florida and never looked back. In retrospect I should have called the sheriff and claimed self defense, but at the time all I could think of was running. So, now, for the last 20 years I have been moving, hiding, and switching jobs, always on the run. I’ve lived and re-lived the night of the incident through countless dreams and night mares, I remember it like it was yesterday. I’ve found that a man can’t be at peace with a thing like this, can’t settle down, make friends, or even have a family, when he is carrying a burden like this. I’ve been close to being caught several times by a detective from South Carolina; he has made solving this case a personal challenge for himself.

I’ve often thought that it’s strange how fate can intervene in a man’s life and change that one defining moment that will forever alter the course of your future. Sometimes that moment will lead you to success and riches and sometimes to failure and despair. So, today, I’ve decided to again leave myself to fate, to turn myself in and let the legal system be my judge, because I’ve learned that you just can’t run from your sins of the past.

Please feel free to contact me at; pooritalianboy@gmail.com

P.I.B.

AIRLINE ANTICS

AIRLINE ANTICS

If you have read any of my older articles at www.pib.blogspot.com (also see my article on GYM RATS 05/2008) you know that I enjoy observing and analyzing human behavior, as well as categorizing different groups of people. I hate to over simplify things but it seems to me that people naturally fall into certain categories and sub categories. Much as a botanist would classify plants by species, I have developed my own nomenclature system for naming things. (and even my Italian Boy specially modified spell checker is worn out)

It’s also interesting that people behave differently when placed in different social situations. Few of these interactions are more revealing than when 300 or 400 people gather to board an airplane. The interaction between these perfect strangers is often amusing and revealing.

I have occasion to travel quite often and always take that opportunity to sit back and observe my fellow passengers, both at the gate and also aboard the plane. Below you will find the most common behavioral patterns and categories of people that I encounter:

PRE-BOARDING:

The Worrier: The worrier makes himself known while still in the waiting area, his sweat stained shirt and endless pacing is an easy give away. On board he is easily identified by the large beads of sweat dripping from his forehead, and the white knuckle grip on the chair arm. The worrier is wide eyed and constantly on the alert, with every sound or movement that the plane makes. They are often known to light incense to help insure a safe flight.

Snackeradactle : Ahhh. The snackers (for short). These guys must make sure to get plenty to eat before the flight.(Only God knows when they may eat again)Like a bear preparing for hibernation, they make sure to fill up, before the long flight. They will often be observed choking down a corn dog as they enter the gateway. They have also been known to pack a full course meal to consume at their seat, while the rest of us are enjoying our salted peanuts.


ON BOARD BEHAVIORS:


The Snailosaurus: Ok. The name says it all on this one. Ever wonder why it takes so long to get everyone one on the plane? There is a good chance that you have one or two snails boarding ahead of you. They have one speed..slow.

The Isle Hog: The Isle Hog-iferous, is a breed unto itself. They are markedly different from the snail, because the can get to their assigned seat rather quickly, but once they get there, they set up shop right in the isle. They will fiddle with their carry on, take on or off articles of clothing, chat with the neighbors, and even start reading their magazine while still blocking the isle. The fact that there are another 215 people waiting behind them and trying to get to their seats is of no concern to them. (maybe it’s a power thing)

The Numerically Impaired: These guys are easy to spot because they also slow the boarding process to a crawl. They can often be spotted looking at each seat number then back down at their boarding pass. Starting from row number one, they will pause at each row and refer back to their ticket, until they get to row 67.(often holding the boarding pass up, as if it is some type of compass) At that point they must do the mental math of determining the layout of seat #A, B, C, or D. (a real crowd pleaser)

The Creature of Comfort: The creature of comfort has packed carefully, not for the vacation or trip, but for the one hour flight to get there. They carefully unpack all the travel gear to insure they have the most comfortable flight. Out comes the mini reading light, travel pillow, beaded seat cover, special slippers, I Pod, space blanket, and one of those sleeping masks that goes over your eyes, so you can block out all external light sources. They are also know to immediately push there seat fully back and into the knee caps of the person behind them, but heck..at least they are comfortable.

The Travel Neanderthal: Just as the name suggests, these passenger have no concern for any traveler other then themselves. They are rude and impatient, coupled with being totally self centered. They often speak in one symbol dialogues that usually begin with the word “me”.

Button Pushers: No stewardess will rest, as long as there is at least one Button Pusher aboard the plane. They will often push the call button during the flight just to make sure it is still operational.

Sneezers, Coughers, Hackers: Ok everyone gets sick, but it seems like I always end up sitting in the infirmary section of the plane. I know I’m in trouble when the first thing I notice is a giant box of Kleenex tissues being opened as soon as I sit down. They can also be spotted as they set up a small scale hospital room complete with the hanging intravenous lines, heart monitors, and the blood pressure cuffs. They will often be caught calling the stewardess,,”Nurse”. Try to avoid sitting next to them.

Loud Mouths: Loud mouths are by no means only found aboard airplanes, they are frequently observed in bars and restaurants, however due to the noise from the planes engines they must “up their game” a dozen or so decibels to make absolutely sure that everyone can hear their jokes, complaints, and antics. (Also, they seem to be very fond of those miniature bottles of booze)

First Classers: Yes, the privileged few who sit in the very front of the plane in royal comfort. They enjoy a normal sized chair while the rest of us peasants get to sit 3 deep in half the space. The airlines normally add insult to injury by closing a small curtain so that those of us, not so fortunate travelers, don’t gaze upon the royal ones up front. And remember, by no means are the commoners and lesser ones to cross the curtain in order to use the privileged rest rooms.

Seat Hog Sapiens: Seat Hogs are not content with the seat they been assigned. They generally begin assuming ownership of more real estate from the moment they sit down. Their first move is often to flop an arm well over both arm rests, as if to stake their claim. From there they will often lean or lurch into the air space of their neighbor, often under the guise of sleeping.

Stewardzilla: Raise those tray tables and seat backs, turn off those cell phones, suck in that gut, and don’t interrupt me when I’m reading “O” magazine.. Oh yes…you know the ones, I’m referring to.

Arewe’s: Just like kids in the family car, you will often hear the unmistakable call of the Arewe’s….Are we there yet, Are we there yet ??

Pack Mules: Pack mules absolutely refuse to collect their luggage at the baggage claim area at the end of the flight. They are experts at circumventing the “one piece carry on rule”. They can many times be seen with the 6 piece matching designer rolling luggage ensembles that appear to be a single carry on, but take up all the room in 4 over head storage bins. (back pack, computer case, carpetbagger 3 cubic yard purse or briefcase)

Salmon: Just like the fish, these guys are known to always swim up stream. They insist on moving up the isle while everyone else is trying to move down the isle.(especially when everyone else is trying to get on or off the plane.)

There you have it. This collection of people and personality types are on every flight. Have some fun on your next flight and pick them out. If you are lucky you may even discover another species of flyer, or possibly, you are one of the types above.

Please feel free to contact me at: pooritalianboy@gmail.com
P.I.B.

PRIVACY IS DEAD

PRIVACY IS DEAD

I just hung up the phone with my realtor; he found me a small island off the coast of Puerto Rico at a bargain price. I'm so fed up with things around here, I told him I'd make an offer.
All that I'm looking for is little privacy. I am in no way a hermit, or anti social person, I just don't want everything I say and do, to show up on the front page of the Wall Street Journal ( however being a writer, I would be happy to contribute a few articles for a small fee).
I never thought it would come to this but personal privacy is quickly becoming a thing of the past. Hundreds of seemingly minor and unrelated invasions of our privacy add up to a total loss of privacy. More importantly we have to deal with the issue of some person, company, or government agency, misusing this information.
Before you think I'm getting a little paranoid here, just hear me out. Never before in history has there been the technological or data storage capacity to accumulate a detailed picture of each of our lives. When, not if, an individual or group decides to tie together all that information, they could use it for any purpose they see fit.
Let’s use a hypothetical situation, like an average day in your life, to help make my point. Assume for a moment that a fictitious individual (Dr. Evil) had the means to gather, store, and analysis all your personal information and he wanted to use this against you. Here is how he might go about it.
You seem like a nice enough guy, I can see here by checking public records you are a graduate of University of Miami (hey..Dean's List..nice work). A quick search of county records tells me you've got quite the lead foot, 2 speeding tickets (you gott'a slow down buddy..those points on your license can really drive up you insurance rates). Also while I was checking on line records, you seem to be an avid fisherman, hunter, and gun owner; because you have obtained licenses and permits for all of these activities. Oh, and while I was checking the county records I zipped on over to the county property appraisers web site and typed in your name. It seems like you got a great deal on that 2,600 sq. ft house you bought in July of '02 for $152,900. (by the way, I also now have the names of your neighbors)
We can easily assume that I know where you live, heck any phone book or people search could get me that info. In fact I just jumped on Google earth and typed in your address so not only do I have directions to your home, but I have a fairly recent satellite photo and a very detailed street level 360 degree picture of your home. You probably didn’t see the Goggle camera truck that photographed your neighborhood. (hey, that bush on the right of your door needs trimming). Your car is in the driveway and I can see it is a late model Ford with the license plate # (ok..I'll keep that quite for now).
By the way, I took a little drive by your house last week and after only a few visits, I feel like we are old buddies. I hope you don't mind but I grabbed your mail for you on Wednesday and I have to tell you it was like hitting the lotto. I now know your bank account number, checking balance, insurance carrier and that it’s your birthday (gott’a love that mother of your, nice card..and the $20 bucks cash was much appreciated). Also, that copy I have of your phone bill is fantastic, now I have the phone numbers of most of your family and friends. Not to mention that copy of your cable bill, I even know what you watch on T.V.( better take it easy on that pay for view stuff) The best part is that, I didn't even have to use the high tech equipment I own that can monitor your computer usage, because you are foolish enough to use a non encrypted wireless network at your house.( I can tap right in from out front of your house) As a bonus, I picked up all your web sites and even your passwords. I love technology; I don't even have to search thru people’s trash anymore to get all this info.( I never liked that part of the job anyway)
The good thing for me is that your late model car has satellite radio and GPS installed in it..Great invention, that GPS, you can tell exactly where you are at any given time, but so can I. Well, you pull out of your nice suburban neighborhood and I'm tracking you on your own GPS (hey slow down buddy, because I can even see how fast you are going, not to mention having the ability to turn off your car and lock or unlock the doors). Ok, I can tell by where you are heading that you are on your way to work at the local I HOP, but just to be sure I checked the traffic cameras at a few of your local major intersections (smile for the camera)…
And, you are so predictable, a real creature of habit. It's 5:30 pm and your car ignition has been off for 8 hours and 5 minutes (oh yes, I get that info from your car also)..By the way your built in maintenance computer is telling me your car needs an oil change in 200 miles( you need to stay on top of that if you want your car to last). Here's where it gets interesting, you've left work and wouldn't you know my GPS tracker is down for maintenance right now. No problem, I have your cell phone records right here on my screen. You just called your girl friend at (ok..I'll keep that info quiet for now, until your wife's attorney asks me for that info). I can also tell where you are right now by seeing what cell towers your phone is accessing. It may not be as accurate as my GPS gimmick, but its close enough for government work ( note: Freudian slip). By the way, I bet you didn't know that I could turn your cell phone into a listening device, without you even knowing it…shhh.
Must be a big date night, you just stopped at the ATM on the corner of Main and 1st street and withdrew $300 bucks (plus a $1.95 service fee). I wonder where your off to, you shifty fell'a, you turned off your cell phone for a while, probably so the wife couldn't call you. That's ok, I'm a patient kind of guy, it won't be long. See what I mean, I just checked your bank records on line, and a charge on your credit card just showed up for $167.95 at the local high end Italian restaurant (they have an excellent lasagna there, I hear). You really should watch your spending, I recently pulled a copy of your credit report and you need to get that credit score back up, it will affect the interest rate you have to pay on your next loan.

Well, not a bad night's work for me. I have invaded your privacy and have gathered a ton of personal information about you. Of course, that doesn't mean that I would actually use any of that information does it ? Well, not unless it benefited me financially. This kind of intel could be worth real money, if you ever decided to run for political office, or perhaps your ex wife's attorney would paid me for what I know. The truth is I have a lot more data in my file about you and I have many more resources I can use to gather that information at my disposal. I really don't want to give away all my trade secrets, but I think you get the idea….Privacy Is Dead.

Please feel free to contact me at: pooritalianboy@gmail.com

P.I.B.

DAYS GONE BY

DAYS GONE BY

I must be getting older, because I find myself reminiscing about the way “things used to be”. I remember as a kid growing up, listening to my father and the “old ones” discussing “the good old days”. If memory serves me, they felt things were better built, less expensive, and generally more substantial in years gone by.

Fast forward a few dozen years and even I can recall all the changes that have happened in my life time. To be honest, I think most of the changes have been good ones that have made my life easier and more comfortable. In keeping with the traditional way of recalling these things, I believe it is appropriate to start off with the phrase: “When I was a kid”….

Well, when I was a kid I can still remember the Milk man, he would deliver our milk in sturdy glass bottles right to our door and leave them in a little metal box, where he would find our empty return bottles. (not to mention my collection of marbles and jacks). Today we get our pasteurized homogenized milk in paper cartons at the grocery store or seven- eleven (which are now 24/7’s). Back in the days we had old rotary dial phones and “party lines” (boy, I can remember listening in on some juicy conversations of the neighbors). In fact I can still remember my phone number from when I was a kid in Jersey: Fulton 8-3818 (we always said the number with the spoken area code)

When I was I kid, a fill up at the gas station was done by a uniformed gas station attendant. Getting the windows cleaned and “checking under the hood” were also part of the service. Today It’s self serve and pay at the pump, no need for human contact or a friendly hello. Back then, there was a T.V. repair shop on every corner, today there is a bank or Starbucks. In the old days the music featured the sound of the big bands, with all the players dressed in suits and ties, today its rock and rap in baggy pants.

Back in the day a myriad of products were made by hand, by craftsmen that had a lot of pride in their work, today many things are mass produced by automated processes and robots. It seems thing back then were made to last a long time, while today most products are considered disposable (or they are quickly replaced by newer technology)All this efficiency is actual capable of producing products with closer tolerances and less errors, as well as replacing humans in many job roles. The only down side to that is, we have been so efficient with automation that we automated ourselves out of much needed jobs (freeing up our time to stand on the unemployment line)

Today, everything is computerized and mechanized to save time and labor, from the kiosk in the mall to the ATM’s on every street corner. From the self check in at airport terminals (when was the last time they mailed you a paper ticket) to the self check out at Home Depot. E-mail has largely replaced regular mail (or snail mail), paying bills and shopping are done “on line”. For the most part, Good old fashioned service has been replaced by self service; in fact much of the one on one, person to person service seems to be gone forever. When we do experience great customer service, it stands out all the more.

As much as I sometimes long for ‘the good old days”, by and large I’m glad for most of the innovation and change. I would really hate to do without my microwave, dishwasher, cell phone, and a host of other modern amenities (not to mention indoor plumbing). As much as we complain, Cable T.V. with hundreds of choices appealing to most tastes (including the knitting channel), is really preferable to the old broadcast television with a dozen channels. And I really would have a hard time living without cable news and satellite radio in my car.

As I think about it, some of the best things from years gone by are still the best things today (maybe changed a little bit). The classic old movies like Gone with the Wind and The Wizard of Oz, continue to delight new generations of viewer. Re-runs of old shows like I love Lucy and the three stooges are just as funny today as they were back then. I guess some things are just timeless.

You know, overall I think we have come a long way. It’s always fun to think back and reminisce, but as far as I’m concerned “There is no time like the present”. To be honest with you, I find myself looking forward to what the future will bring. Its exciting to contemplate the new discoveries and inventions that will enhance our lives even more. My philosophy is: “Overall its good to remember the past, but try not to get stuck there”. In fact, if these were the “good old days”, I be sitting here in a white “wife beater” T” tee shirt, listening to a scratchy vinyl record, crouched over an old fashioned typewriter, with a gallon sized bottle of white out and a few sheets of “copy paper”, smoking a pack of Camels…..Oh yes..I remember.

P.I.B.

DREAM ON

DREAM ON

"Each night when we sleep, our minds are liberated. Absent the restraints and adherence to logic and thought, we can freely mix fact and fiction, reality and fantasy, we are free to dream." P.I.B.

I've heard it said that we all dream every night, but just don't remember most of them upon waking. Some dreams seem very vivid and real, invoking pleasing thoughts, some conjure up painful images that awaken us in the middle of the night, covered in sweat. Yet others are like fleeting glimpses or memories and seem to evaporate from our minds, as we desperately try to hold onto them when we open our eyes. Some mornings when we awaken, we are able to recount our dreams in great detail, and other times we are at a loss to recall more than a few details.
Its seems like all but the most vivid or horrific of our dreams, quickly fade from our conscious memories within minutes after we awake, a sort of dream amnesia, almost as if their content is created for and reserved by our subconscious memory. Sometimes if we recount them right after awakening we can transfer the images from short term to long term memory, thereby retaining them. Some people suggest keeping a “dream journal”, close at hand to record the elusive thoughts before they evaporate into the vapor.
Dreams seem to be a combination of our past experiences, thoughts, and emotions. The images may have a direct meaning to us, or be metaphorical. Dreams are a mental cocktail of our hopes, our desires and our fears. Sometimes profound but often nonsensical, our dreams, and even our need for dreaming, is not fully understood. Perhaps they represent a form of self exploration.
Time and reality can be altered in our dreams as we mix people and places from our past with current happenings in our lives. I believe our brains are such a powerful and complex organs that they never really rest or shut down (until we die), instead our stored and primal thoughts take over when the cognitive portion of our brain relaxes. Even in this state we can still measure electrical activity of our neurons.
Scientists have established that dreaming only occurs during the REM portion of our sleep and is often accompanied by rapid eye movement. Sometimes we have re-occurring dreams that repeat themselves over a period of months or years. We seem to have little or no conscious control over the content of our dreams, but rather we are carried off and immersed in them as unwilling participants every night.
We also dream during our daylight and waking hours but these "daydreams" are more directed, structured, and controlled. Here, we imagine, plan, and hope, our dreams are carefully orchestrated by our conscious thought and tempered by reality. Just like our night dreams I feel people need to dream. Our minds require an outlet for our pent up thoughts, that can't be expressed during our waking hours filed with the demands of life and conscious thought.
There have been books written that attempt to interpret our dreams, but I'm not sure if these are not mere attempts at explaining why and what we actually dream about. Our minds are so complex, and our dreams so varied and unique, I wonder how anyone else can interpret their meaning when it is a mystery even to the dreamer. Others suggest that our dreams are premonitions or some primal déjà vu'.
One thing is for sure, even if our bodies are in bondage, we all are free to dream.
P.I.B.
“Dreaming permits each and every one of us to be quietly and safely insane every night of our lives.”

William Dement, in Newsweek, 1959

YOUR OWN LITTLE WORLD

YOUR OWN LITTLE WORLD
Footnote: As you can tell by some of my previous articles, I’m fascinated by human thought and behavior and enjoy taking a closer look at why we say and do things..

Have you ever noticed that when you are traveling in your car, you are in your own little world ? There you are, the cab of your new Mercedes is quiet and isolated, the car has automatically re-arranged the seats, mirrors and steering wheel to your exact preset specifications. As soon as you reach 15 miles an hour the doors automatically lock to help insure your safety. The a/c is blowing cool, at just your perfect pre-set temperature, the satellite radio is set to your favorite commercial free channel and light jazz music permeates the air, thru acoustically correct and balanced surround sound speakers. An ice cold Pepsi is in the drink holder. Those special ultraviolet blocker Sunglasses are shading your eyes and giving the illusion that the world outside your custom tinted windows is crystal clear. You are 100% in control of your environment and the GPS navigation is even telling you when to turn and the distance to your destination. The truth is, its no surprise to you that everything is just right, after all, you went thru great trouble and expense to insure it was to your liking. You are like an island unto yourself. It just doesn’t get better that this.
When you stop to think about it, each of us lives in our little world, not dissimilar to the self imposed isolation we experience in our luxury cars. A world that we helped shape to our own liking. Have you ever noticed that even as people are walking on a busy sidewalk, they seem distant and detached ? A far off look in their eyes ? There they are awash, in a sea of humanity, yet strangely lost and consumed, in their own thoughts.
Of course we all live and work in a complex and crowded social environment, but within that setting, we all reserve a small and encapsulated world of our own. I guess that’s what makes us all individuals, what makes us all different.
Each of us operates under his or her own code of ethics, our own pre-conceived ideas, goals, agenda, and prejudices. To a large degree our actions are self serving, as we seek things that give us pleasure and avoid things that we find painful. Let’s face it , our brains are hard wired…we’ve got to look out for # 1. (it’s our prime directive)
We learn early on to share, get along, and interact with those around us. However everything we see and do passes thru our own set of individual mental filters. Some data is filtered on the way in and some filtered on the way out. In fact, we have so much control over what we see and hear, that sometimes we unknowingly seek input from sources that are likely to reinforce our way of thought. We bend the information we take in, thru our mental filters, to more closely coincide with what we want to see or hear.
I guess this sense of tunnel vision is why we always think we are right in any given argument. Every conversation, interaction, relationship, and altercation tends to effect our self worth..either positively or negatively
Taken to an extreme some individuals can be quite abrasive. This probably explains why some people we see walking around and driving seem so self absorbed. (everyone else get out of my way)They are wrapped up in their own thoughts, problems, worries, priorities, and ambitions. In some cases these self centered individuals begin to think that the whole world actually revolves around them.(sometimes our parents reinforce this notion while we are growing up). You know the ones I’m talking about, they have this far off, and pre-occupied look in their eyes as they walk right into you without even apologizing. (don’t get in their way when they are making a move towards a buffet line).
So, even though we are largely social creatures, we all reserve a personal space for ourselves, both physical and mental. This probably also explains the phrase “I just need a little time for myself”. So, even though we can choose to let people in to our private space from time to time ..it’s still…”Our Own Little World”
P.I.B.

A HEART BEAT AWAY

A HEART BEAT AWAY

I didn’t actually realize it at that moment, but my whole life was about to change. It was a typical Friday night and I had ducked out of work a half hour early to get a start on the evenings festivities. I feel like I earned the early out, after all, I am the top producing salesmen in the company, and a real work-aholic. My plan was to run back to the apartment, catch a shower and a few beers and then meet some friends for dinner.

When I got to the house I noticed I had a few messages on the recorder. The first two were from work and I had to call some customers back right away. That little exercise took almost half an hour. So, much for getting out a few minutes early. I was about to listen to the next 2 messages but rather than be late for dinner I decided they could wait until the morning.

Well, dinner and a few drinks ended up being dinner and quite a few drinks. I ended up leaving my car at the restaurant and got a taxi ride home. By the time I woke up on Saturday it was almost noon, and I had one hell of a hangover. To make matters worse, I had to ask a neighbor to drive me back over to get the Vet.

I got back to the house late Saturday after noon and noticed the message machine still blinking. I had forgotten about the two un-played messages from the other night. Both messages were from my friend Tony. He called to remind me that he was leaving on his cruise and asked if I would bring in his mail and newspapers. He sounded excited as hell and I was glad that he was taking some time off. In fact I had suggested he take the cruise as a way to relax and reminded him not to bring his laptop or cell phone. The guy is a type “a” over achiever and a true work-aholic, just like me. I have known Tony for over ten years and considered him one of my closest friends. He is as close to family, as I have left, especially since I haven’t talked to my parents or sister in over 7 years. I’d do anything for that guy.

The second message was also from Tony. This one had a much more somber tone. It seems a good friend of his had evidently been rushed to the hospital and he feared it was a minor stroke. Tony had briefly considered canceling his trip but asked me to follow up on his friend in the hospital instead. Tony left me the guys name and room number and told me he would call me from the port when he got to Mexico.

I figured this would be an uncomfortable visit, being that I had never met Jason, but as I mentioned there was no way I would turn down doing a favor for Tony. I’m really not a procrastinator, but I farted around for a few hours, and by that time I was pretty certain that visiting hours would be over anyway, so I made myself a promise to go see him first thing in the morning.


Anyway, Sunday morning I stopped at a grocery store and bought a get well card and a few flowers and headed on over to Memorial hospital. The parking lot was full but I found a spot after driving around a few times and headed for the main entrance. The minute I walked in the front door I remembered why I hate hospitals. I get a weird feeling in these places and felt like turning around and heading back to the car. Instead I pushed on thru and made my way to the elevators. I pulled the note from my pocket to refresh my memory. Yes, Jason King, room 415. The label on the elevator showed Floor 4 as I.C.U. , maybe this guy was in worse shape than Tony was aware of.

When I got off the elevator on floor #4 there was no one at the big octagon shaped nurses station, so I headed thru the double doors looking for room 415. Ok, 412,413,414…this is the one. The door was partially open so I walked in. It was a private room with only one bed and the drapes were pulled closed.

I worked my way around the I.V. pole and over the bed table to the side of the room closest to the windows. “Jason…Mr King, I’m Luis a fiend of Tony’s”. There was no answer, it was evident that Jason was sound asleep. It was also evident that this guy was older than I had anticipated and he didn’t look good at all. By this time, I was feeling pretty damn uncomfortable and was asking myself what the hell I doing here in the first place. I thought about just leaving the flowers and the card on the table and hitting the road, but I felt obligated to stay for at least a few minutes.

I sat down on a well worn wood and leather chair by the window and just kind of stared at the heart monitor going thru its paces. I could hear Jason breathing heavily while breathing in oxygen thru the tubes in his nose. Now, I’m not a doctor but I could tell this guy was not doing well. In a quite tone, almost a whisper, I told him not to worry, and that he would be O.K. Almost immediately it seemed as if his breathing became easier and less labored. For some reason, I felt like maybe my presence there had consoled him in some small way.

I set there for another 15 minutes and as I was getting ready to leave the old guy opened his eyes and said..”Thank you, that was very kind, will you come back again ?” Maybe he caught me off guard or maybe my conscious just took over, but without even thinking, I said “yes, I would”. I noticed a tear running down his cheek. I left the room feeling like I had done the right thing for both my friend Tony and for this poor guy lying there in obvious pain. On the way out, I decided to stop by the nurses station so that I could get a report on his condition, so that when Tony called me in a day or so from Mexico, I could tell him how his buddy was doing.

I stood silently at the desk for a moment as a young nurse was finishing up with a phone call. I told her I was checking on a stroke patient, Mr. King, in room 415. Almost without looking up she told me that Mr. King did not make it and passed away yesterday. The gentleman in the room was Mr. Penski and he had just been brought up from the operating room with quadruple by pass, and was in critical condition. She told me that she was happy someone had visited the old guy and asked if she should add my name to the visitor list for Mr. Penski, because she was told he had no living relatives or local friends.

A torrent of thoughts rushed thru my mind. What happened to Tony’s friend Jason, what was I going to say to Tony when he called, and why the hell didn’t I get here yesterday like I was supposed to. Also, who was this poor guy, in the room now.

When I got home latter that day, I thought about the events that had transpired and reflected on just how delicate life can be. I guess when you think about it, each of us is only a heart beat away from our last moment in this life. This may sound corny but I decided right then and there to go visit the old man again the following day. Maybe it’s because he was so much like me or maybe it’s because no one should have to face the unknown alone. Either way, I knew it was the right thing to do.

The next day, I was good to my word and was back in the hospital right after work to see the old man. I sat in the old wooden chair just as I had the other day and that brought a pained smile to the patients face. He motioned to me to sit closer and in a very quiet voice told me his story. He had built a large business and made a lot of money in his life, however he ignored and alienated his friends and family in the process. He told me that he wished he had spent more time doing the important things in life and he regretted that. I was deeply touched when he told me that for all he had accomplished, he had too many things left un-said and left un-done.

We talked for a while more, and I could tell there was a lot more he wanted to tell me, but his labored breathing and fatigue seemed to steal his voice away. He rested for a brief moment and grabbed my hand. He asked If I would come back again, and I told him that I would. That seemed to put him at peace. A smile came over his face, as he closed his eyes, and he gently squeezed my hand. I set there for a minute with tears streaming down my face, for a man I barely knew, yet who had taught me so much. Somehow I knew he was gone, and yet I felt strangely honored to have shared his last moments with him.

We all have key moments in our lives, and that experience marked a turning point for me. I knew I had things left un-said and things left un-done in my own life, and I was now determined to address them right away. Because I realized, we are all just a heart beat away…..
P.I.B.