Tears for Serenity

"God, Grant me the Serenity..."

Looking up at the night sky, the 1/8th moon had risen about a quarter of the way, just below Venus with her twinkling eye shown ever so bright and Jupiter was following her. I could only think about how beautiful the sky seemed, I had not noticed the shining gems for many years; however, I now could see the beauty once again. Everyday existence has become harder and harder to bear, I too, have lost the hope that I secretly desire. I yearn for the days when I could see the colors of the rainbow or the twinkling of the night sky. The universe, with all it wonders, seems to repel my magnetism. As with the planets around our sun, they orbit and dance around, some keeping time and others slow to move. Just as with the stars and planets, people move in a similar fashion. They move around each other, some are magnetized towards each other and sometimes, repelled. The slow moving Venus has no magnetic pull; she just travels slowly, with the occasional meeting of a comet. My own magnetism seems to work ever so slowly, with the occasional meeting of minds.

Days are spent working and trying to make my world a better place, I long for the connections from other people. Some come in and chat a bit, while others just come in to browse. None seem to inquire about me. So I watch and wait for the next connection. When business is slow, I periodically gaze out the window of my fish bowl. On goers pass by the window without a hint of interest. Sometimes wishing I could be out in the world instead of circling my sunken treasure and wrecked ship. When no one is around, I will say hello to the people out on the street, even though they can't hear me through the glass. Not much to dream about when I eventually go home to slumber.

"...to Accept the things I cannot Change."

The rut I have dug myself into, has given me dread for the next day. I would like to just sleep. So before I leave for the fish bowl, I ask the universe and God for a little help to get me through the day. "Please make my day just a little better, please send me some kind of change." I say my prayer and drive off to work. I have a smile on my face, just knowing something is gonna come along that will make things just a bit better. As I make it through the day, I realize, I just made it through. Nothing really to tell, but I know I will be soon home and ready to start all over.

Last Thursday, I felt really good, I knew something different was to happen. After I finished work, I decided I needed a pack of smokes. I waited in line at the counter at the Mini Mart. The fellow a head of me decided to wait a moment as I left the counter. "May I buy a cigarette from you?" He asked as he handed me a quarter. He asked then if I could give him a ride home. He said he only lived about a few blocks from the store. I really wanted to just say no, but something inside me said I would be alright. "Sure!" I exclaimed.

We drove the distance and I put the truck in park. "My name is Gary," he stated. I looked at the time on the clock on the radio. "Would you like to drive around for a bit," he continued. I thought about it for a second and he explained that he lived in a house of death. His mother, had MS and his Aunt was taking care of her. He said that he really didn't want to go into the house and feel the sickness that was over the house. Everyone was waiting to die and he just couldn't take it. I too felt the same, I wanted to get out and just be in the company of someone who understood, and to feel alive again. He said, "I'll be right back." Getting out of the truck and returning with a guitar. "This is my baby." Holding the instrument close to his chest. He began strumming the strings of it. "I traded my AK 47 for a guitar." He added. Gary had served in the Marines during the first Gulf War, he said he didn't want to talk about it.
A couple hours past and Gary and I had struck up a friendship; it had been a long time since I had bonded with another human. We talked about politics, his girlfriend, my orientation, and about music. Mostly about music. We had similar tastes, he and I both agreed that Annie Lennox was the bomb. She had the most beautiful instrument, her voice. He said, "those 'Idol' bitches never sing Annie. They never have the range that she has and I doubt any of them will."

He began to perform with the guitar again. Singing some George Michael covers. He stop for a minute to tell me more about his own music, and began to play again.

This was kind of nice, I thought. I was sent a friend to chat with. He didn't care about me being gay, just that I was a friend. He too had some things he talked about that might make people feel uneasy, but I didn't feel that. The past is the past I told him.


Gary began dancing around, saying how he loved looking at the stars. I was intrigued and reminiscent about the situation, but I needed to get home. Let's go, I told Gary. As we got back on the road, he said, "you are my friend, Mike. I think we are gonna be friends for a long time."
"I think so, too." I replied.
Once we returned to Fort Collins, he said he wanted to show me something. He had me pull behind the bank on College Ave. He said to point my headlights around the lamp post. When he didn't see what he was looking for, he jumped out of the truck. He said to get out. We walked over to the area he was talking about. He stated there was a memorial with flowers planted around the post, but someone has taken them away already. The memorial was for a friend of his whom committed suicide a few days earlier. He said he was 24 years old and had laid down on the tracks. The train had severed his head from his body. He didn't know if he was drunk or on something, but if he was sober, he had more balls than anyone he knew. From what he understood, people watched this young man do this to himself and didn't have the courage to stop him. It didn't even appear in the local paper. Gary suggested that he was going to make a new memorial for this fellow and put it back where it was placed earlier.
When I got him back to his house, he said that he wanted my number. I was honored that anyone would call me. We exchanged numbers and said to make sure we kept in touch.

"The Courage to Change the things I can..."

Looking up to the stars makes one seem so minute; does the order of the universe affect every detail or is it just random. Events that transpired with another friend unveiled themselves in the next day. Nick, had decided he too did not like the way the world had treated him. With an overdose of his medication he was going to leave this world and his friends behind. I could not believe he had done such an act. His life was just starting over again, he had a new job, friends, and more of a life to look forward.

I sobbed, "Why would you leave us behind?" Again, the Universe in all it's randomness, has no answers. Maybe the new friend was sent to replace the loss of another.

Needing to find solitude from the chaos, I invited Gary to hang out.  "Where do you want to go?" Asked Gary.  I really had no plan, but he suggested we go to Denver.  On a whim I drove that direction.  The sun was shining and a good day was about to unfold.

Strumming away my pain, the music man played for a bit. More notes came out and he began to sing. The guitar was a bit of out of tune, he mentioned it, but played anyway. As we drove, we came to a point where the Rocky Mountains were the most glorious. The tops were covered with snow pack and the view was simply the best. Gary retrieved his cell phone and began taking videos of this journey. He mentioned what a wondrous day and how the universe seemed to be aligned. He moved the cell phone to point my direction and directed me to say something. I of course keeping my eyes to the road, waved to the camera and said, hi. After putting the cell phone away, he picked the wooden instrument up and continued plucking. "Let's play karaoke in the car," he laughed, "name that tune." He played a tune I remembered from back in high school, the tune came out and he started to sing. "That's 'Careless Whisper', by Wham." I blurted out. He laughed and commented on George Michael and all the news he had about his lifestyle. I replied, I liked George Michael's older stuff, but did not care for the newer. Gary resumed to play.

Notes began to flow once again. I recognized the song, but could not grasp the title. As he sang it took me back again to my youth. As the lyrics flowed, I smiled. "So help me if you can..." I could almost feel the sadness and the joy. "...Count all the bees in the hive, chase all the clouds from the sky's..." The song was a Kenny Loggins tune, 'Return to Pooh Corner.' "....back to the days of Christopher Robin..." He sang.

We made our way down to Colfax in Denver. The street was full of people making their way to the destinations they were heading. He pointed to the church in the distance, park there, he said. The church was fenced off, and a sign read the church was under construction. I felt a little leery about being in this part of town, which I stated. He reassured me that nothing was gonna happen. He then told of two Lakota that wanted his jacket and he fended them off. He said, he lived here on the streets for sometime and he had earned the respect of the locals. It seemed as if he wanted to show me a part of his life that he was proud. He survived! Living in the muck of hopelessness and insanity of Colfax. I asked, "How do you still have hope?" I could see the bleak and misery in his eyes. "You have to have hope in order to survive." I too struggle with hope. He looked at me and said you have to have faith, and faith is hope.

We journeyed to a place he frequented. It was a tavern on the other side of Colfax across from the church. We went in to see bar lined with souls. He talked to a man, who asked him to sit down and have a drink. He said we were here so I could see where I could get mugged. The man replied, "it's daylight, you have to wait til sundown." Gary laughed. We exited out the back and into the alley. He then motioned for us to go back across the street, he wanted me to meet someone. Again, leery of the situation, I followed. We made our way to a building behind the church. Upon looking it seemed to be an Eden in the muck of Colfax. We made our way to the locked door. He pressed a button and revealed to the tenant that it was Gary. The door buzzed and we went inside. It was an old folks community. The front room was filled with the elderly. Most were chatting amongst one another. He told the people working in the front he was going to wait for Bill to come down. He scanned the group and went and shook hands with another elderly man. The man was tall and dress to the 9's in his best 1970's vintage purple tuxedo. Gary explained that he was waiting for Bill and he wanted to entertain the group while we waited. The man followed and we went to the fourth floor of the building. There was an old piano, waiting in the corner of the room. The old man introduced himself as Phil and that he was just waiting for the mail to arrive. We all sat in the room and Gary began to play. He twinkled the keys as if they were stars. His fingers were as solid on the ivory as they were on the strings. He chuckled for bit and began to play "Careless Whisper" again. That's just a joke he remarked to me. Then he began to play one of his tunes. The song made Phil come to tears. He remarked on what a talent Gary had been blessed with and asked if he played professionally. Gary replied with, he used to. I sat in awe at the talent that he had been given. I was amazed with the beautiful notes being played on the keys.  Bill finally arrived and we departed from Phil, he again remarked that he needed to wait for the mail to come.
Bill was another elderly gentleman who had taken to Gary.  Gary used to visit him when he lived in Denver.  The apartment was filled with a lifetime of photos and memories.  I noticed a photo of the man's wife, she must have passed many years ago, however, he probably still retained much of her memory as he could.  Gary and Bill chatted for a while, he just wanted to let Bill know that he was still alive and living in Fort Collins. We departed and headed to the next destination, a barber shop about a mile or two up Colfax.

Weaving in and out of traffic, Gary said the shop was just a bit up the way on the left side.  He said that I could stay in the vehicle while he went inside.  It was only going to be a minute.  We came to a stop, the traffic was congested. As I looked up I saw a man stumbling around in the middle of traffic, I turned and Gary was out the door.  He took the man by the hand and guided him to the sidewalk.  I saw him give him a smoke and say something to him.  I just felt as if there is no hope. I had never noticed such tragedy.

The barber shop was in a run down block  part of Colfax.  There were three barbers working in the shop.  I was introduced to a man called Black Jack, the other two I was not introduced to; however, they all had their qualities.  The woman who was working there was sitting on the couch with her girlfriend, the other barber had to leave.  So I waited as Gary talked to Black Jack.  Black Jack was also a musician.  He had hidden behind a screen some equipment that he played.    Gary had sold him his keyboard and was in the process of picking it back up.  Black Jack was concerned, he had sold the keyboard sometime in December, he said he had not heard from Gary in a year and figured he was dead. On the wall of the shop were photos of young African kids with neat designs in their hair.  Black Jack designed figures for the kids to give them something cool to show off in school.  Gary said that without hope, these kids were going to be living a life of hell and it gives them a bit of hope when they go to school. Gary again, performed for the group in the barber shop.  His guitar was his life and performing seemed to give him the hope that is so desperately needed.  The song he played on the piano he played for the barber shop audience.  The lesbian, took out her cell and recorded the whole song.  Gary figured she probably was going to put it on YouTube, the caption would probably read, White guy performs in African Barber Shop. Our last stop was also up the street at Bob's Music. 
Bob was another friend of Gary's.  Bob also looked out for him while he was on the streets, he probably had taken him in for awhile.  Bob's Music was filled with pianos and organs of every make and model.  I was impressed to see a Baby Grand in the front.  Gary sat and played on the grand.  Bob came out and began conversing.  Gary said, "You know I went to jail."  Bob looked down and replied, I know. I shook Bob's hand when Gary introduced us.  I then  said, "I like your shop." The response I received was, "It's like owning a De Soto dealership".  The instruments were dusty and many of them old, even though they were still new.
Sitting on the piano bench, Gary began to tear up.  He said, "I have never told anyone this, but I was in Desert Storm. "I killed a girl with my AK 47.  I just can't get this out of my mind." Just another instance of Collateral Damage of war.

At that moment, I knew I could see the pain in this man's heart. I wish I could help.

Bob told Gary he needed to straighten up and quit drinking.  Gary had agreed, but actually doing that is a feat in itself. "Just use your brain, you have so much talent." I think there must have been much hurt between Gary and all the people I met.  Bob, I think, could not bear to see Gary again.  He wanted to leave the shop, he was making excuses to get him out of the shop.  Gary said, play me a song before I go.  Bob replied, "You're the piano man, you play."  Bob soon agreed, and went to the organ up on the pedestal overlooking the other instruments.  He asked, "what do you want to hear."  I replied, "Amazing Grace".

"...And the Wisdom to know the Difference."

The Universe is a cruel and unloving place.  Everything lives and dies, which includes the stars.  Eventually the sun will expand and devour all the planets in our solar system, then go super nova, sending all matter deep into space.

Does anything really matter at that point?  Probably not;  but the existence of today matters to me in this lifetime.

I hope Gary is out there playing his guitar, somewhere.  I don't know why I was given the opportunity to meet him or listen to his music; but if the universe could send out a break, I hope it is to him.