They say things happen in threes. I’m not sure if that is true, but I have noticed that many of my blogs have three distinct stories. So, here we go again.
I picked up a delightful older gentleman, Ralph (about four years my senior), near my home in Gulf Breeze. As we began talking, we realized that we had spent our youth very near each other in West Mobile, Alabama.
He and I graduated from the University of Alabama. He was an athlete. I watched athletic contests. He played baseball at Bama. He told me a story about a time after one of their baseball games, Coach Bear Bryant, an avid baseball fan, walked into the locker room. The immediate quiet was clear evidence that a legend had entered.
We talked about a time when we witnessed a moment at Denny Stadium where even our opposing fans stood and applauded as Coach Bryant sauntered around the field in his coat and tie. Those days are permanently gone.
Ralph told stories about his time as a Ranger in the Army after graduating from Bama. I’m always amazed when I meet someone who spent a large portion of their life near me without either of us realizing it.
Story # 2 - I picked up Kellen from the airport. He appeared to be about twenty-one and very personable.
“I just moved here about a month ago. I didn’t really know anyone here, but I needed to grow up and be independent. I’ve been raised in the Carolinas, but the beaches are prettier here. I haven’t settled into a new job yet, but I love it here. I’ve been living mostly off of my savings, but that will run out soon.”
“How does your family feel about you moving down here?” I asked.
“My parents think I’m crazy, but they’re good with it. I think they will adjust and hopefully visit me a few times. They keep trying to get me to come back, but I’ve got a year’s lease, so I’m at least staying here that long.”
“Did you just come back from there?”
“No. Actually, I just came back from Orlando. They’ve got some good prices for flights there if you catch them at the right time.”
(This is when I asked one too many questions. Happens often!)
“Oh, what got you down to that area? Disney?”
“No. I’m a photographer. I attended the furry convention there. Do you know what a furry is?” he asked.
(Unfortunately, I did. I wish I didn’t, but I do. If you don’t know, I’ll leave that discovery to you.)
“That had to be interesting,” I said. (Stimulating conversational skills, don’t you think?)
“It is very interesting,” he continued. “I think the attendees can be split up into thirds. One-third are people who genuinely believe they are animals. They try to live the way they perceive their animal choice lives. I think they’ve got some mental and emotional problems.”
“The next group are people who spend a lot of money to act out their parts. They enjoy the costumes and try to outdo each other. To them, it’s a performance and they use it like a lavish hobby.”
“The third group may just be curious. Some show up just to be entertained. Anyway, everybody likes to have their picture taken, so I make good money from these events.”
(It has just occurred to me that my first rider above and I spent a lot of time talking about someone nicknamed ‘Bear.’ I don’t think it’s the same thing at all.)
The last rider in this trilogy was the most disturbing. (You mean, more unsettling than a ‘furry’ convention?)
I picked up Lisa. When I told her I had published two books, she wanted me to help her write a book about her life. I asked her why she didn’t write it herself.
“I get too emotional when I think about it. I need someone else to put together a narrative,” Lisa said.
“So, tell me the story,” I said.
“When I was fourteen, my mother committed suicide. Shortly after that, my father was killed by a drunk man driving a bread truck. The bread company settled for $30,000.00. I bounced around from home to home after that, and eventually found myself homeless.”
“I even lived in some caverns in Florida for a short while.”
She became “friends” with a sketchy guy. When she got pregnant, the guy insisted that she abort her baby. She refused and had the baby. I have to admit, the details began coming so fast, I couldn’t keep track.
Eventually, she married a Navy officer. They’ve divorced, or are in the process of divorcing. I’m not sure. Our ride came to an end. She got my information and left me hers.
She definitely has a story. I can’t imagine going through the amount of chaos she’s experienced in her life. I’m not sure if I’ll ever write her story, or even whether I should. I do know this - she needs our prayers! Please add her to your list.
There’s an oft-repeated folk saying that states, “If you put your troubles on a table with everyone else’s, you’d take your own back.” I’ve seen enough while driving for Uber to make a believer out of me!
God Bless,
Tommy
By the way, I think we’ve overcome all the challenges with my blog going to your spam/junk folders. I won’t know until this one goes out. I appreciate your patience. Book sales are picking up! I’m grateful - please keep promoting it, and if you haven’t purchased one yet, please do so now!
