Delusions

Taking things for granted

A rather horrific thing has happened to our acquaintance, Carl.

We don’t know the full details yet because we only have a message on our answering machine here at the leather store. We haven’t spoken to him in person at this time.

Carl called to report that he wouldn’t be able to come by any time soon to pick up some items we had ordered for him.

“Right now, I’m blind. I’ve gotten metal fragments in my eyes. I have a good doctor and he says I will regain my sight but not soon.”

Eyesight. Almost all of us take it for granted. We wake up. We open our eyelids. We see the morning sun. Ho hum. Another day. Wonder what’s on TV tonight. Yawn. We delude ourselves into the belief that our vision is invincible.

I don’t know whether Carl took his eyesight for granted before. Betcha he doesn’t take it for granted now.

How about me?

You’d think that I of all people wouldn’t take my ambulatory mobility for granted.

After all, polio knocked me down at age four, and at first I couldn’t walk at all. I learned first-hand about paralysis.

Eventually, with lots of help from God, my parents, my physicians and surgeons, and some very patient nurses and therapists, I got on my feet again.

To be sure, I had to use crutches or a cane at first. And, occasionally, I would be knocked down again, recovering from yet another surgery.

But whenever the latest surgery was past, there I was, arrogant and cocksure, walking around as if nothing had ever been wrong – and as if nothing was ever going to be wrong again.

Just like any “normal” human being, I would always go back to taking my mobility for granted. Deluding myself.

It happened again this week.

Laura and I went to North Colorado Medical Center for our weekly visit to the kind, gracious and skilled people at the Wound Care Center.

We unwrapped my poor little beleaguered baby foot one more time and found – gadzooks – the wound was almost healed!

Consulted by phone, my expert podiatrist gave permission: I didn’t have to wear the cumbersome elastic wrap after that moment.

I was free! I could put matching shoes on again! (Somehow matching shoes have become too important to me over the years. Perhaps you will understand.)

Right away, I took a shower like a “normal” person. I didn’t have to ask Laura’s help to put a plastic bag on my foot to keep it dry. I could wash both of my feet, not just one of them.

Just like always, I got feisty. The bite came back to my tongue. I caught a big attitude. Yipes.

I do remember what my doctor had said. “We’re going to beat this one. But it will quite likely happen again.”

I thought about my friend Carl. I thought about the time that I, too, was blind in one eye for a short while. I promised myself, “I’m not going to take anything for granted any more.”

Then I felt a little hunger pang. I jumped up from my keyboard and headed off to the kitchen for a peanut butter sandwich. I rushed to the cupboard without picking up my cane and using it.

Yep. You got it. I had immediately taken for granted my ability to walk. I fell for it almost instantly. Jesus knew better, but I forgot to remember what He had said, that no one knows the day or the time, only the Father knows.

I was continuing to delude myself. Yipes.

An old friend visits

The first time I ever laid eyes on our friend “Big Oh,” he pulled up on his nasty black Shovelhead in a California seaside flea market.

He was quite an imposing character. Bald except for a little monkish ring of hair above the ears, he sported a full-length black flowing beard.

The Shovelhead was elderly, but in immaculate condition. It was low and loud and it looked very heavy, very classically Harley.

I knew I had to get to know this man.

The scene itself was dreamlike. The flea market was on the seashore just outside Moss Landing in California’s central coast. There was always a wisp of fog driven ashore by a mild breeze, even on sunny days.

Big Oh had stopped to visit with Ornery Mike, the proprietor of one of the flea market booths in the parking lot. Ornery offered various biker-oriented items for sale, and his little startup enterprise drew many of us from surrounding Watsonville and Salinas areas.

We struck up a conversation and I knew we would become friends. Soon, we met Big Oh’s wife and the four of us began riding together and socializing.

Laura and I were as close to heaven as we could get without actually dying.

Think of it. California seashore. Motorcycle riding every day of the year. Temperature never gets above 70 nor below 40. Little wind. Life in the easy lane.

Heaven on earth wasn’t to last forever. Eventually, California spat us out. Big Oh helped us with the transition back to Colorado, and we drifted apart as people do when they don’t live close together.

This week, we had a happy reunion. This is rare in my life, but it happened.

Big Oh and his wife looked us up and stopped to visit on their way back to Washington, where they now live. They were returning from a family visit in Dallas-Fort Worth.

Same brawny, handsome, deep-voiced man. Same unmistakably individual speech pattern. Same beard, only it’s gray now. Same bright brown eyes. Same intelligent, if unconventional, life view. Same loving concern for me and Laura.

Same beautiful fellow, 22 years later.

Sadly, the classic Shovelhead is gone. (I still have mine, and yes it still leaks oil.)

But happily, we found out we still have almost parallel interests. Recently Big Oh developed and restored a 1968 Ford Galaxie 500 fastback.

He showed us pictures. We’re constantly working on our 1968 Ford XL 500 fastback. We showed him the real thing, in our garage. With minor differences, these two cars are sisters.

Chance meeting on the seashore? Happenstance with the matching cars? Coincidence? I hardly think so.

We love you, Big Oh and wife. Happy to see you, our good friends.

Word of the Week: Anamnesis. It’s Greek, and it means “To call to mind again.” In English, it’s a remembering, especially of a life before this life. You Catholics will hear the anamnesis at a certain point in the Mass when the priest recalls our Lord’s death, resurrection and ascension.

Next week’s words: “Capital” vs. “Capitol.”

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