DiscApp ID # 175790
Article ID # 1461369
Author Mondo Fuego™
Email
IP 108.67.72.29
Date Tue Sep 4, 2012 11:45:05
Subject Quant ...

... here's a li'l sample of my writing:

Amy K.

by Mondo Fuego
(copyrighted by the Author)



I had the good fortune of discovering Amy K. in the Atlanta airport.

My plane from Hartford to Nashville had been canceled the night before due to freezing rain. I had already turned in my rental car, and, after the flight was canceled, I had nowhere else to go, so I stayed in the Hartford airport all night long, and a long, sleepless night it was. There were no flights to Nashville until the next evening, so I took the first flight out the next morning to Atlanta, thinking that I would be able to get a flight from there to Nashville.

There she was, sitting in the Atlanta Airport at a high-top table on a stool, sipping a drink. She had a sophisticated straw hat perched atop her head at a slight angle, with two ribbons from the hatband hanging off to the side, and long, silky hair flowing from beneath. For me, who had been up all night long, she was truly a sight for sore eyes. She looked bright and sassy, she possessed an air of carefree abandon, and she had a natural smile. You could tell that she was not afraid of anything or anybody, nothing could bother her, so it didn't matter ... she could be friendly, and that she was.

We had a couple of drinks, talked about everything and nothing, then boarded the plane. When we arrived in Nashville, she seemed to disappear just as suddenly as she had appeared in Atlanta. Although we had spent more than two hours in conversation, I came to the stark realization afterwards that all I really knew about Amy was that she lived in Bowling Green, Kentucky.

I was both impressed and infatuated, but not in the usual boy-meets-girl sense. I was in my mid-forties, and she had to be about twenty years younger. I know "things like that" do happen, but this seemed different, or at least more encompassing than that.

So, why the fascination with Amy? Perhaps it was just the ambiance of the moment. There are millions of people with whom you come in contact throughout life. Some of them are even fairly interesting. But, when you meet someone bright, you'd better get to know them. Otherwise, you probably will be pretty much alone, because you won't meet too many bright people in your journey through life. Amy was a one of a kind in a million.

I obviously liked Amy, and I didn't even understand why. What's more, it didn't matter why - it was a gift. Being that I didn't really know much about Amy, there was not much that I could forget about her. It was like not having a million dollars, so I didn't have to worry about losing it. But I knew one thing for sure, that I would never forget her. Not in a million years.

I thought about Amy from time to time. It was not just her face that I would remember, it was her entire countenance.

~*~*~

About two years later, I was visiting a client in Ashland, Kentucky. On the way back to Nashville, as I was nearing the Bowling Green exit, all of a sudden the vision of Amy came into my head, and I suddenly found myself at a telephone inside a restaurant off the exit wondering how I would ever locate her. There was an entry in the phone book by her last name, but it was not her first name. Taking the chance that it might be her parents or a relative, I called and found that Amy was in school there and lived with her roommate, Heather. I called the number I was given, and Heather answered. They were both scheduled to go to a party, and Amy had already left. I explained to Heather who I was and how I knew Amy. To my great surprise, Heather invited me to come to the party with them, and she offered to meet me at the restaurant and let me follow her to the party. It was as if I were Ulysses adrift on the Aegean Sea, and Calypso, the goddess of kind winds, had gently blown me ashore. Fortune once again had smiled upon me. This was true hospitality.

When I arrived at the party (keep in mind that Amy knew nothing about my being there), I was not the least surprised that I immediately recognized Amy, but I was somewhat overwhelmed that she likewise recognized me. It was as if time had stood still. I don't remember what the occasion of the party was except that there were a lot of students there, and a few faculty members. Unfortunately, I do not even remember Heather, although I am indebted to her. But, forget the party! Amy and I had two or three glasses of red wine and talked incessantly until the party closed down. We hugged, and I then drove on to Nashville.

This time, I learned something about Amy. She was in college, majoring in journalism, she was serious about pursuing a career, and she was going to serve her "apprenticeship" at a major newspaper in California. I was very happy for her. She had such a positive spirit about her. It was not like she was going out and conquer the world of journalism in a greedy fashion. It was more like she was going to go out into the world and do her best. Amy was replete with ideals.

This meeting in Bowling Green confirmed and reinforced my feelings about Amy. I liked her immensely. I still didn't know why. It was just there, it was something that just happened. Furthermore, I did not know what to do about it, but I was happy and content, knowing that just because I liked her didn't mean that I had to do anything about it.

~*~*~

Several years passed, and I thought about Amy from time to time. I wondered what she was doing and how she was doing. I guess that over a period of time, curiosity got the best of me. I was all but clueless as to how to get in touch with her, but I called directory assistance in Bowling Green and once again secured that magic number. I spoke with Amy's mother, told her who I was and how I knew Amy. She was extremely cordial. She told me that Amy lived in Baltimore and gave me her daytime telephone number. Southern hospitality is still alive and well.

I travel occasionally in my business, and I had already planned on being in the Washington-Baltimore area in several weeks. I called Amy. She was glad to hear from me, but we had to keep our conversation short because she was busily at work. I told her that I was going to be in Baltimore, and we made plans to meet and have lunch.

Two weeks passed, and I found myself at the reception desk of the newspaper where Amy worked in Baltimore. The moment Amy walked into the lobby, there was instant recognition on both sides. Again, it was as if time had stood still.

We walked a block down the street and decided to have lunch at "Donna's".

She told me about her career as journalist and photographer. She had worked a while at the newspaper in California. Then, she did photo-journalism for National Geographic. Then, she moved to Washington with another newspaper. While it was challenging and fulfilling in one sense, in another it was very lonely work. It was a great experience, but there had to be more to life. She had gotten married about three years ago, and was now a feature editor with a major newspaper in Baltimore.

Amy told me about her little boy. He is two years old and he has a condition which Amy described as a "deleted chromosome". I don't know much about genetics, but she explained that without the correct number of chromosomes in each cell, the human body is vulnerable to cancer of the brain, colon and other organs.

She had taken off two months from her job to be with her little boy. Somehow all that career ambition didn't much matter any more. She just wanted to be with her son, take care of him, and share the joy of life together. She wanted to simplify her life, enjoy being a mother, and give up all of the things which occupy time and energy but which are basically meaningless.

She told me that her friends said she was "brave" to handle the burden that she and her little boy faced. She was quick to point out that bravery involves making a choice at a precise moment to either confront or elude a situation, and that she never had a choice in the matter. I agreed with her, but I added that it takes courage to face a situation on a continuing basis, and the basis of that courage is love. It is also a matter of great patience because there is nothing else you can do except be there.

I told Amy that my mother had died of cancer at age forty-seven when I was eleven years old. Then, later on, my sister, who was six years older than me, died of cancer at the age of thirty-seven, leaving four young children. I was very close to my sister, and I was angered by her untimely and undeserved death. Furthermore, I could see the handwriting on the wall: She died at age thirty-seven; I was thirty-one at the time; I would not possibly live longer than she did. So, I spent the next six years with the "Sword of Damocles" hanging over my head. During those six years, true to form, I had the scare of my life. I had been a moderate smoker for more than a decade. All of a sudden, I had recurring pneumonia. My doctors told me that it was likely that I had lung cancer. After major thoracic surgery and forty-two days in the hospital, I was OK. But, it scared the shivers out of me, I quit smoking, and I have never touched a cigarette since. I am lucky on both counts.

It took me ten long, angry years to get over my sister's death, and all during that time I felt "survivor's guilt". Somehow, after sensing the love and pain which Amy has for her little boy, I began to feel survivor's guilt all over again. At the same time, I felt honored that I was somehow chosen for the moment to share some of her burdens and worries - small price to pay to have the luxury of her company.

We talked philosophically about why things happen to the ones we love. Is it by design, or do things just happen? Does God plan for some people to be afflicted and others to be healthy, or does nature just take its course? There appears to be such order in the universe. Consider the symmetry of mankind. But, it's hard to imagine that God arranges every grain of sand on the seashore. Anyway, the wind just blows it around anyway it wants to. Maybe God, and the sand and the wind are all the same. Spinoza says so. Some things appear to be planned, others just seem to happen. That's more like it - things just happen. After thinking about some of the major philosophy of the ages, from Socrates and Plato, to Aristotle, Descartes, Spinoza, James, and Butterfield, it seems that the best two philosophers in life were John Lennon, who stated "Life is what happens while we are busy making other plans.", and some good ol' boy who made the bumper sticker which reads: "Shit happens". This is the real philosophical paydirt of the second millenuim.

We all are challenged to make an omelet out of an unfortunate situation, but we are basically pretty helpless. With all the knowledge and technology that we possess, it is amazing just how little input we provide towards the design and order of the universe. All of recorded history and knowledge a la mankind could go up in smoke with just a slight, insignificant shift in the winds of the universe, and perhaps nobody or nothing would ever know the difference. But, then, why is it so difficult to accept what we cannot control?

After lunch, Amy needed to get back to her busy job at the newspaper. We walked the block back to the entrance of her building, not really saying very much. A quiet spell had come over us. When we got to the steps, I didn't know what to say. It had been one of the finest hours I had ever spent in my life. Somehow I did not want to part with Amy, but, without feeling very brave, I felt that I had to make a choice, even though I really had no choice. Tears began to well up in her eyes. We hugged each other tightly. I turned away, walked slowly back to my car, all the while fighting back tears of my own.

I don't understand why, but I have been profoundly touched by Amy K.

~*~*~