Living In The Moments

PinF was witness to another path of convergence recently. His brother Rob, recently married in Mexico, was again pronounced husband to his lovely wife Mari in a civil ceremony, further establishing their new tax status. It was of course, a wonderful service filled with close family members, and an equally close collection of lifelong friends. The bitter sweetness of life was also included in the day, as the cousins' of the groom were in attendance after having just lost their mother---sister to the groom’s mother, to cancer several weeks ago. Proving yet again, that the force of life’s experiences, combined with the power of time’s sweeping hand, are both complimentary and symbiotic elements in the natural march forward.

Oddly enough these lessons became even more apparent when PinF would literally bump into one friend and be introduced to another later in the evening. The first was an old friend whose “experience” 25 years ago continues to alter the time in his life. To add the necessary symbiosis to the lesson, I was to also meet a new friend, one who would give testament to one of the most painful and powerful events in our nation’s history.

PinF saw the wheelchair parked at the edge of the crowded bar as people squeezed by in each direction either trying to get a glimpse of the jazz band or making their way out of the club. As I made my way to the bar to place an order I was startled by the feeble hand grabbing at my own, as quick as I looked down towards the wheelchair it was instantly apparent it was an old friend from high school, one I hadn’t seen or heard from in over 15 years. His is the kind of story that sets all your hardships and setbacks in life in proportion, and inside I felt a sort of guilt for having moved on and lived my life in the years since I had seen him last. Norman is his name, and he’s been paralyzed since 1983 when riding his bicycle down Wallingford Ave. he was stuck from behind and left in the road paralyzed by a never identified hit and run driver. He has never walked since, and has limited use of his hands and arms. I quickly thought of all the things I’ve been able to experience and do in my life—all of them things he hasn’t, nor probably ever will. I asked how he was, what he’d been doing; all seemingly shallow questions when you understand his reality. He said he’d been living in Boca Raton and seeking treatment at Nick Buoniconti Spinal Cord Research known as the Miami Project in hope of finding a cure so that he might walk again.

Norman had recently moved home to Wallingford, his hopes apparently dashed. Sad stuff to be sure. He was quite despondent, and spoke of “ending it all”, something that isn’t easily countered in a crowded bar with lot’s of noise, not to mention the downer that alcohol is. I offered what words of encouragement I could and we drifted through other less sad memories and painful times, he seemed to cheer up. He eventually moved on, his wheelchair being pushed by other old friends, one’s who’ve remained in Norman’s life ever since this tragedy struck down the once muscular and motivated youth. The striking contrasts were hard to ignore, the mutual friends—true friends at that, who have been pushing that wheelchair for decades, they now have families of their own, yet remain loyal and dutiful. Norman however remains in a wheelchair, trapped in time, dependent on others for his every need. What the anonymous driver of the car that hit him on that dark night 25 years ago didn’t steal, time and despair have slowly and steadily managed to --- hope.

Equally interesting though no less heart wrenching was the next friend PinF was to make on this night. An old college buddy of a friend of mine was in town to watch a football game. He was bringing along his 20 year old Penn State undergrad son, of whom after speaking with him, I discovered he is immensely proud of. He’s a good student, living away from home for the first time and excelling with his studies. His parent’s like any first time parents who send a child away for college were naturally reticent and a bit worried. They live on Long Island and their son is all the way up in Happy Valley. This father had a message of a different kind, his one of true hope borne of loss. It seems that all his worry was not based on the fact that the son was living away from home, but rather it was based on the fact that his son was living with an incurable disease yet he continued to strive, live, and accomplish. The father was immensely proud. He’s also worried, for his son lives on timetable of unknown length owing largely to the fact that his disease has an expected life span of not many more years than his son already is. His son is living with Cystic Fibrosis. As much as this may have sounded like a bummer, it was actually quite uplifting to hear especially when I heard the father’s story behind the story.

This friend bore witness to his own brother’s death not but 6 years ago when he arrived to work on the 24 floor of his office adjacent to the World Trade Towers on September 11th, 2001. Upon arriving he was greeted with frantic phone messages from his elderly mother, he returned the call and was told to turn on a television that her son and his brother were in trouble. He knew immediately the reason--his brother, a broker for Cantor Fitzgerald was trapped above the impact floors of the WTT along with 657 other work mates. He quickly placed calls to his brother and was met by a calm, deliberate voice who assured him he was alright, he would get out, and to let his mother know that she shouldn’t worry. My new friend commented on how his brother was a tough guy, a former boxer, and a real go-getter. He repeatedly spoke to his mother and brother that morning assuring them he was on his way down. Of course by now he knows better—that his brother was in fact trapped, and had no chance of exiting the building. He also knows his brother most certainly knew the severity of his situation after witnessing the second tower attack.

With horror, he watched his brother’s building collapse, and with this collapse went his hope. Of all the people I’ve either heard or read accounts from of this day, this was the first who calmly related the horror of the day while also having been directly affected with the pain and sting of a personal loss. Perhaps this event had a large role in his sons’ realization of his dream to attend university—no matter how much time he had. It also spoke of how hard it must be to let any child go, let alone one with a fatal disease, when in fact that child is quite possibly living his last year’s--- and away from home at that.
So here were two totally unrelated people; each carrying incredibly personal and heavy burdens, both of them under the same roof. Their only connection was the fact that I heard both their stories and felt both their pains.

Still, although sad, each one of these men had a valuable lesson to offer; one offered a stark reminder in appreciating that which you have, though we all might occasionally complain about ---for it could be gone in a second. The other lesson was equally stirring---about having the courage to face what seems like cruel circumstance, and evil odds--- because sometimes with hope and a prayer you can overcome those odds. the biggest loser, wwe, rose bowl, college football, nfl,