Random thoughts. . .
Memories of many years gone by, orbiting my head this afternoon. . . all three of ancient old men, whom my path has crossed with in the last 50 years. . .
The first was when I was in high school. My father worked on the railroad, and as such had a free rail pass, and in high school, on the weekends, I would take the train up to Chicago and go to visit the museums or go to Old Town, which in the day was full of head shops, and hippy type stores. In the train station one day, I cannot remember the details, but somehow I connected with an ancient old one legged, one eyed wizened and weathered black man, with what might be described as a cloth wrapped beggars crutch. He was sitting in the Chicago train station, waiting for the train to St. Louis. . . He said he was taking the train home to die. Again, I haven’t thought of this in over 50 years, and cannot remember the details, but I remember sitting with him for a good long time that day, as he told me of his life. . .his troubles. . . his hopes. . . He refused the little bit of money that I was able to offer him, but he did accept my buying him a coffee, with lots of sugar in it. Somehow or other he was given a train ticket for free to go home. He had cancer and not long to live. . . He wasn’t bitter about how his life had turned out, but seemed to look forward to his finding rest and peace in closing his eyes for the final time. . . That afternoon’s conversation touched me deeply, shed new light on life. . . I remember him with deep fondness. I hope he found his looked for peace. . .
The second memory was from when I was in the military. I was in a Gausthaus, outside the gates of Sheridan Kaserne in Augsburg, Germany where I was based. It was a small hotel/bar/restaurant, a very cozy setting where wonderful German food and strong German beer were served in abundance. These were long years before I came to Christ, and I found many evenings leaving Herbert, and Helena’s Gausthaus in a rather intoxicated state, to walk back to the base, which was only a block or so away. One evening I began conversing with an old German gentleman, whom I’d never seen there before. His English was about as broken, and unintelligible as my German, but somehow we conversed in spite of the difficulties. He recognized me as American military. He had been a German Luftwaffe pilot in the great war. The base I was stationed at was an old German air base taken over by the U.S. military after WWII. He had been shot down, and captured by the allies, and held as a POW for a time. He said that he had been treated fairly by the Americans, and held no grudges, it was war after all. He and I ended up drinking some not small quantity of a traditional German drink made of goat’s milk, and brandy, arms interlinked, cheek to cheek from an ornate traditionally decorated German mug. In the way of intoxication, we ended the evening hugging, and declaring eternal friendship and brotherhood as comrades in arms across the long decades which separated us in age.
The third memory was of a man in a nursing home, whom I had an afternoon’s conversation with. He had been a railroad engineer during WWII. He drove the train which brought Franklin Delano Roosevelt, our 32nd president from Washington D.C. to the Democratic National political convention in July of 1940. He drove the train for the last leg of the journey from somewhere in Ohio, into Chicago. The trip was held in high secrecy. He remembers seeing FBI/Secret Service agents at every overpass, and many/most of the road crossings that the train took, to protect against attacks against the train. A little old man, like uncountable other little old men, now lonely in nursing homes across the land, whose lives lay the foundation for great men, and great events. . .with rheumy eyes, and trembling hands remembering their brushes with history. Reminiscing this afternoon. . .remembering these men who with light brief touches across my path, helped mold and shape me. . .
I remember you. . .
I appreciate you. . .
I do love you and hope you found rest and peace. . .
I thank you God for putting people across my path, who helped shape me. .
I treasure their memories. . .
❤
Dave
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