Guest Post by Hardscrabble Farmer
“I will honour Christmas in my heart, and try to keep it all the year. I will live in the Past, the Present, and the Future. The Spirits of all Three shall strive within me. I will not shut out the lessons that they teach.” –Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol
I dreamed last night of something that happened to me a long time ago. I ran into a man I’d met when he was only a child on a beach in another country. We were at a gathering, it was festive, and there were multitudes of people talking and laughing around us as we stood in the middle of some sort of restaurant in a strange place I’d never seen before. I can’t tell you how I knew it was him, but I felt the connection as clearly as if he was one of my own children. He was middle-aged in the dream with children of his own and though we didn’t speak the same language we communicated our joy at encountering each other just by the looks on our faces.
I was so happy to see him again and I knew he felt the same way. That was it, nothing magical or profound, just a meeting of two men and the connection between us. I woke from the dream in the pre-dawn gray with such a deep feeling of happiness I am at a loss to explain it. I don’t fully understand the purpose of our dreams, but I can’t deny the power they have to trigger something deep inside of us and so I try to listen to them and find some meaning in their message.
I had been on the road for a couple of years and had a manager that kept me busy 52 weeks a year. If she booked a gig, I got to it no matter how far I had to travel. The week before Christmas of 1991 had me in Winnipeg, Manitoba at a half comedy club, half strip club during the middle of a deep freeze and then manage to get to Merv Griffin’s Resort Casino and Hotel in the Bahamas for a Christmas/New Years show. The catch was that I had to drive that distance, over 2,200 miles in order to make my flight.
I don’t recall much of that drive, looking back most of the road years are a kind of 65 mph blur of distant tree lines or ocean fronts, crisscrossing North America when it was green or brown, white or yellow depending on the season and the tour. I had only recently broken up from a serious relationship because of the constant roadwork, but hadn’t really taken the time to dwell on what that meant or how it had affected me. I was used to being on my own so I didn’t feel lonely, only that something was gone from my life I knew I might never come across again.
When you’re young you always think in those terms; every event is significant, every loss irreplaceable. I do remember the last hours of the trip vividly; this was back when you navigated with a Road Atlas and an odometer. I ran calculations against the dash clock looking over at the flight coupon on the seat beside me hoping the time would change in my favor. I made the flight, again in a time before 9/11 when no one ever looked in your bag and you basically parked your car and walked up to the gate and took a seat. I was the kind of exhausted you get where you see flashes of bright neon colored light and your skin tingles but I knew that even when I checked into the hotel sleep was something that was going to have to wait until after the first show.
I was working with Lewis Black, a NY comic who was just starting to catch some heat. I was still a feature act then; Lewis headlined the week and I opened the show with a half hour and turned it over to him for 11 shows in 6 days. My act was solid by then, set-up, punch, tag line, call back. Over and over at a pace that matched the audience response. As soon as they’d slow down their laughter I’d launch into the next bit, wave after wave like the ones you could hear from the beach out in front. Lewis was an angry comic, solidly built jokes that increased in volume and fervor, sometimes matched by flicks of spittle and a wagging finger, but with crushing punch lines and vivid imagery.
Our styles were polar opposites, but that made for a good show and though we weren’t friends, he was friendly towards me. Older comics, the jaded road guys who’d headlined for years, always made a point to remain aloof from the ones coming up. The energies were so different, the level of experience so skewed that it made sense. He didn’t want to share road stories he’d told a thousand times and I wasn’t looking for a reason to feel bad about the life choice I’d just made, walking away from what could easily have been a marriage and a family in order to do stand-up in front of strangers for the next ten years of my life. We’d have coffee together in the mornings then go our separate ways until showtime, have a cocktail afterwards and then retreat to our respective suites in the hotel.
On Christmas morning I woke up early and headed out to Cabbage Beach, empty but for a few clusters of families with children playing in the sand or picking up shells along the shoreline. I was trying to write a spec script for Tales From The Crypt, a popular HBO series at the time and paid little attention to beauty of that sandy shore. I know I was feeling sorry for myself, alone on Christmas morning, the only time since I’d gotten out of the Army that I hadn’t been with family, in a tropical setting with nothing to remind me of the significance of the day except my thoughts.
At some point I got up and started to walk along the beach toward a set of rock jetties a bit further along. I was just going to sit out on the promontory and stare out at the flat Atlantic and feel sorry for myself when something caught my eye. Down along the edge where the water ran up on the slick basalt, I could see a little boy moving quickly, half in the water and half on the jagged rocks. He was looking at something just around the tip of the jetty just out of my view and for some reason I had to see it for myself, so I picked up my pace and moved up higher where I could get a better look.
As I scrambled up barefoot, feeling the rough, wet stone under my feet I caught a glimpse of something white, another smaller boy in the water twenty feet out. I don’t know what I was thinking in that moment, so far in the past now that no one could hope to remember it, but I do know what I did. I ran into the water, almost falling and swam towards him. I remember the look of panic in the other boy’s eyes as I passed him and as soon as I got beyond the end of the jetty wall, I was pulled into the same riptide that had taken the boy out. I was a strong swimmer, but I had never taken any kind of lifeguard training and didn’t know what I was going to do when I got to him, or even if I could reach him with the sea racing the way it was.
I remember thinking that drowning people can pull a rescuer under and I’m sure that the self-centered part of me was telling me to let him go and get out before I wound up being pulled out in the current with him. Something else must have possessed me stronger than my own will to survive and I stroked as hard as I could to get to him and when I did he allowed me to get my arm around his chest and up around his neck. What I didn’t know, couldn’t have known, was that the tide was going out and the water from the lagoon that the hotel sat next to was rushing between those two sea walls and if we were to reach the mouth of that outlet, that would have been the end for both of us.
There was no one else around except for the other little boy on the rocks and even though I could see him screaming at us, the sound of the waves and surf drowned it out completely. I’m not sure how I was able to keep us from reaching that point of no return, I swam for my life, his too and I cut across the riptide in the only way I could see to get out of that situation by heading for the waves crashing on the rocks. With each stroke I could feel the loss of power, my energy dropping while every alarm bell in my head went off. Stroke after stroke, kick after kick and that young boy with his head back, face to the sky offering no resistance, trusting this stranger who’d grabbed him in the water to get him out.
Obviously, I made it to the rocky edge and it became clear instantly that the boys were brothers and they grabbed onto each other while I stayed half in half out of the surf, so weak I couldn’t drag myself up and out for quite some time. The boys kept saying something to me but I didn’t understand it and all I could think was why did I do something so reckless, how close had I just come to drowning a few hundred yards away from a casino in a strange place, on Christmas morning.
By the time I got my energy up enough to get out of the water and hobble back to the beach, the boys were gone. I never saw either of them again and I went back to the towel I’d laid out and my yellow legal pad with my stupid script and fell back with my eyes closed and listened to the surf. After a while Lewis came out to the beach and sat next to me and I told him what had happened, though I don’t know if he believed me or not, and after that my life just went back to whatever it was and whatever it was going to be. We did our shows that night, he even made a reference to what I’d told him in one of his bits and I felt somewhat ashamed I’d said anything about it.
The rest of the week spun out one day at a time and before I knew it, I was back in the US, driving to the next gig at a Comedy Zone in Jacksonville. I never finished the script, never really made it in comedy past the road stage although I did become a pretty solid headliner for a while there, and except for once or twice to my family, never told this story before. And until I had that dream last night, I don’t think I really understood the significance of that Christmas morning and what it meant. I don’t know for certain, of course, but I imagine that those boys grew up and went out into the world, probably married and had families of their own.
I don’t know if they remember that morning and what happened or as it is with most things in your early years it just kind of faded into the wallpaper of your life, like a dream does after you wake up in the morning. I don’t think it made a profound impression on me or made me a better man, and looking back over my life from the perspective of someone getting closer to the end every year I wonder if I had thought about it for even a second longer, would I have jumped in the water at all?
There is always a selfish streak deep inside of all of us that manages to keep us alive at the expense of others and mine was a mile wide back then, but something prompted that reaction and I will be forever grateful that it did. It wasn’t that particular event, but a long string of similar ones, both experienced and observed that has prompted me to examine our true purpose in this world and to discover how, despite all our best efforts otherwise, we can and do rise to the occasion and fulfill some sort of destiny. Maybe not even one of our own, but someone else we touch in some way.
When I woke up this morning while the dream was still fresh in my mind, I looked up a map of Pleasure Island on the Internet. Maybe I was trying to find out if my memory still held up over all those years, if I recalled the beachy and jetty the way it was or if my memory was as imperfect as my own life was back then, but there it was, big as life, exactly as it was all those years ago.
When we look back over the course of our lives, all the great mistakes and the small wins, we hopefully begin see a pattern, a long and winding trail of where we’ve been and where we’ve gone, the paths we didn’t take, the detours we chose for ourselves and the strangely undefined and concealed destination that is always ahead of us, just around the rocks or over the horizon.
I desperately wish that before I reach that place where I am able to lay back on the warm sand with my face to the sky that I can cast off the last parts of me that do justice to no one, to silence the voice that puts me first and the interests of others second and just jump in because it is the right thing to do, not the safe thing. And when I get there, I hope that I meet those brothers again so we can say hello in a language we both understand.
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Beautiful story, you saved a young boy’s life, a higher endeavor than most accomplish in a lifetime.
I’m guessing you’re not a big fan of transgender story time for kids……
In a high-trust society/culture, a water rescue by HSF, like this is done with bravery, and this self-sacrificial behavior is held up as heroic and ideal.
It is recognized and rightful rewarded.
However, in the 3rd world…
Well, not so much…
Hence, why the Western World is being turned into the 3rd world, and made to suffer the “death of a thousand cuts”, so that (((the usual suspects))) may profit off of your labors.
Every.
Single.
Time…
Excellent and touching story, HSF. Thank you.
WOW!!
When a wounded soul stumbles across a sample of Farmer’s harvest from his lifetimes’ garden, they are sucked in much like that rip tide…..the outcomes could not be more different.
annuit coeptis novus ordo seclorum
‘an ancient hope that is meant to be fulfilled’ Shrub Bush
Beautiful story. I have been a dreamer and a studlier of dreams for most of my 64 years. I consider the dream world to be part of the many mansions Jesus talked of. They are definitely the key to spiritual understanding of who and what we are, and our ultimate destiny to one day be a coworker with God.
“…our ultimate destiny to one day be a coworker with God.”
I see you get it. Well done!
Thinking about HSF dream. It was not a dream as dreams are symbolic. It was a Soul travel experience. Soul travels are much more vivid and yes very real. Many thanks and blessing to HSF for sharing the journey.
I wonder if that boy, who is now a man, thought about that day recently, which triggered the dream. That maybe thoughts by one human can interact with the subconscious of other humans in ways we don’t understand, invisibly, across any distance. Like a stone that you throw into a lake causing ripples and then you throw another one in, which causes other ripples and then the ripples intersect and interact.
I would not be surprised if they never told their parents about the whole event.
Through the holy spirit, as Souls created in God’s image, and the universal mind we can contact anyone at anytime. It doesn’t matter if they are physically alive or dead. I periodically visit Mom, Dad and other relatives, and it is always a joyous occasion. This is part of the many mansions in God’s kingdom.
Many people will think you are loony. But once you get a basic understanding of the natural economy, of our complete physio/emotional/spiritual constitution, it is so obvious how concepts like yours could be the logical extension of our physical senses.
It’s just perception on another plane, attuning to a rate of vibrating matter that is beyond that which our physical senses can be employed to perceive.
It isn’t rocket science. : )
Maybe that boy died last week, and his departing spirit sent a message to everybody that has ever played a major role in this past lifetime to say thanks and see you some day, when we can have a beer together (restaurant reference in the dream).
That crossed my mind as well. That’s a beautiful story hardscrabble. Harkens back to the early days when we would often get gems like these from you. I miss them! All the best to you.
reminiscent of “a prayer for owen meany” and “magister ludi” both to me.
Interesting connection. I’m going to dwell on that one for a while.
Yes it is very possible. But I find death is not necessary in order to have a special inner connection with people. I am a twin, and before the era of cell phones we would bump into each on the road on the way to visit each other. We proved to 6 people on the slime line at the cannery that I could tell him to do something inwardly and he would do it. They were completely freaked out, and denied it ever happened though they saw it with their own eyes. I have also had that close connection with other family members and even friends. A thought of a friend would enter my mind, and I would meet them a few minutes later in some random place. The 2nd time I met my wife to be, the inner voice told me this is your wife. It shocked me as much as anyone when it came true. I have found the inner connection with people very real, and it’s a special blessing from the holy spirit, and I am reminded of this quote.
Spirit is the thread so fine to be invisible.
But so strong to be unbreakable.
Of course, we are all one consciousness, experiencing ourselves subjectively….
Amazing story, with so many parallels to what I experienced. May I tell you what it means to be the boy you saved?
I was a professional musician who was working in a band on cruise ships in Europe and the Caribbean; I was in my middle 30s. Unlike you, I was never a strong swimmer and was always cautious about swimming in the many unfamiliar waters at beaches we frequented at ports of call. For some reason, even though we had been warned about the rip tide, the piano player and I plunged into the surf at a beach in Acapulco and started having fun.
At some point, we both noticed we had drifted out further than we had planned. We started to swim back and that’s when the icy panic set in; we were swimming but not making any progress toward the shore. After a while it became apparent that he should save himself and I motioned for him to go. Out there alone, just swimming in place, I thought, “So this is how it ends this time. They won’t find my body and probably will be eaten by sharks, hopefully after I drown.” I was starting to hallucinate from the constant exertion.
At some point, I thought I hallucinated a young man was swimming next to me. However, it wasn’t a hallucination. He had seen me struggling and swam out. Somehow–I have no idea how–he alternated supporting me on one side then the other, until we finally reached shore. My last impress of him was me lying face up, gasping for air on the sand, as he stood smiling bent over me, pukka shell necklace, dark hair, deep brown skin. And then he just walked away down the beach.
I remember thinking I would give him anything, everything I had at that moment, for what he had just done. I was told later that he was the strongest swimmer on that beach and only came on certain days to swim. He never came on the day he saved me, but he did that one day. They said no one else would have dared to try, only him.
For hours after, all my senses were heightened incredibly. Someone cut open an orange across a dining room, and it smelled like it was under my nose. I alternated between laughing in joy and sobbing, unable to digest what had just happened.
That was 40 years ago. I have had 40 years of life, of living and learning and trying to do what you have made your goal. I have thought of that day many, many times since. The workings of destiny, of will, of second chances, of what we make of our time here.
I know I am preaching to (most) of the choir here, but it has only convinced me that we have a purpose, a unique trajectory that our life is meant to fulfill. It may not, maybe cannot, be what we had thought it would be or hoped it would be. But if we are open to it, it will be better than we could have ever imagined.
Thank you for being the outstretched hand of God at that moment, when you jumped in to save that boy. I have a feeling, while it may not be something he dwelt on as he reached adulthood, as old age sets in he will ponder the significance of that day, and what your actions set him free to do with the remainder of his life.
What a beautiful, beautiful dream to have, and to reconnect on a soul to soul basis. Somewhere, I bet a man felt a warmth and a tug at his heart at the same moment.
Thanks to you and HSF for your beautiful stories. It’s why TBP is a great hangout.
Thanks for sharing your story paralleling HSF’s.
The book by Anne Archer Butcher, “Inner Guidance,” tells a similar story of being caught out in a rip tide, and then being rescued by Dolphins. I heard the story in person. It has a very unique twist. The whole book is amazing. But I won’t ruin the end of the story for anyone interested in reading the book.
If you want to unlock your spiritual potential, check out this book. Every story is a complete miracle and a testament to God’s love.
Wow, a mystical morning here on TBP. Thank you Sirhan Wrap, and thank you Hardscrabble for these beautiful reflections.
May God continue to bless you.
Living a contemplative life often fosters self introspection.
Self introspection can buffer the noise of the world.
A reminder to make time for the quiet moments.
Thought provoking and well said HSF.
Thank you.
Absolutely wonderful and heartwarming story, HSF. Thank you for sharing.
All of our lives contain events that make us and shape us; they may seem insignificant or momentous at the time of occurrence but ultimately they all weigh in the balance when our life’s journey is done.
Sounds like Santa’s spirit is alive and well in you…
That’s the single most terrifying diagnosis a person could hear from an exorcist or spiritualist yet you say it so blithely.
Funny boy. 😂
“In dreams I walk with you…In dreams I talk to you”. I have lived with dreams of my high school sweetheart that morphed into more of a ballad of Spiderjohn “when I long go held a royal flush in my hand” I’m old now, running out of time and live without regrets but still dream. Thanks HF for sharing your life and dreams.
Roy Orbison. I hope this works.
EDIT: Yay. It worked!
Beautiful story, HSF. IMO, you jumped in to save the kid because you have a heart for others and felt the urgency of trying to save a young person. Circumstances make heroes and you certainly were a hero to that family so many years ago.
Hardscrabble,
Are you doing the BBQ on the 4th?
Does not surprise me at all. You seem like that kind of person, even if you didn’t know it at the time.
I often speculate on ripples in the pond, The Butterfly Effect, and Forest Gump’s feather on the breeze:
There is an undeniable sense of wonder in The Universe and so much of it seems threaded together in ways which would defy random odds; although many would disagree.
A chance encounter, being in the right place at the right time, etc.
No one looking back even just 5 or 10 years ago could have predicted the exact minutia of their life circumstances today – either good or bad. And, yet, there is a sense of inevitably to it all, too.
Perhaps you had the dream in order to remind and reflect; to type and post the words. But even if you dont fully understand why, some readers might know.
Is a life like music in a symphony or a pinball in a machine? Ask the players at any given time, and, when they find the words, they will surely tell.
It was no chance encounter. It was the holy spirit guiding HSF to his spiritual destiny. Perhaps he needed to repay a debt is why he, as soul, did not hesitate.
And, yet, there is a sense of inevitably to it all, too.
The Great Mystery is our free will and yet, the above I hold to be true. There is a certain inevitability to our choices, and to the outcome of those choices. The human mind boggles…
S.W.,
When I posted my comment earlier, I had not read any of the other comments. Having some more time this evening, I just read through the thread, including what you shared above.
When my parents were old, I sat down with each of them at separate times and had them tell me the story of their lives. In those tellings, I picked up lots of details that had not come up in past conversations.
For example, my Dad told me that his mom (who died when he was young) would occasionally ingest laundry starch and he speculated that she must have had some sort of nutritional deficiency. Strange.
He also told me that when he was 12 years old, he was walking in a dry run and got caught up in a flash flood. He tried to swim the best he could but he could not grab hold of the bank, let alone climb out. He was sucked under a culvert, came out the other side but could not get his head back above the water for air. Just then, a hand reached down and pulled him put. Dad thought the guy must have laid on his belly in order to reach down and catch him. The man made sure Dad was OK but Dad didn’t know who it was and he never found out.
Chance or fate? Only God knows.
In any event, if there are other timelines in the fabric of spacetime, there are likely some where my family never existed and I’m not now typing this.
Your last sentence surprised me. I have had close calls as I was driving my car. In one event, I almost got crushed by a huge truck, but avoided it in the last second (with 1 of 3 kids in the car). I wonder if this is 1) just one of many timelines, in which we survived, but in the other one my husband is left to raise 2 children alone or 2). I am dead, as I write this.
Quite likely.
I like to think so, as it’s quite obvious God can use messengers and human intermediaries to do His Work whether they realize it or not. I also like to believe the conscience and free will of people should be channeled to do positive and constructive things as much as possible.
Jesus said, with God all things are possible. My biggest fear isn’t dying, it’s not being able to give a good reason when accounting time comes … and it will come.
Brilliant writing!
No offense, but I was there, we had taken mushrooms, and it was a mannequin floating offshore. But he did put everything he had into it, he did bring it back to shore, and I was very impressed.
Now that’s funny.
As you know, I always play to the back of the room.
Ha, ha!
Maybe Stucky, but I don’t believe he would have picked that song? Probally not a song choice for Llpoh either.
Admin? But doubtful on the mushrooms. Would a good beer-drinking Catholic boy even know about them?
T4C? Maybe, but I believe she would have went with a photo and not a song.
BL? Not a big song poster either.
Edgy, super cool tune reminiscent of the Scottish alt-rock group, “The Jesus and Mary Chain” but with a throwback 60s qausi-Beetles vibe. Probably AP. I think. Maybe. 🤔
Meet the new Department of Justice spokessimian.
I believe that dream was a gift from God.
Those who know themselves a bit, are courageous a bit, not stupid from self-love, and are virtuous when it matters most could not tolerate not acting in the face of a danger they could have done something about. This is not the same as avoiding guilt, but has to do with integrity and seeing in oneself that maintaining it matters, personally, to the utmost over a lifetime.
Late to the game here, but these are the posts & threads that shine like stars on a cool crisp autumn night, deep in the woods, where the air is clean and visibility sharp.
Brilliant.
Ya just have to soak it all in, with wonder and amazement.
Helluva story Marc. Pretty cool that Lewy checked in, too.
Can’t say much more than what’s already been said by others.
I will say though, that Saranwrap’s tale and take on things was a bonus.
Stop in more often.
You too, Lew.
HSF, Thank you and I’m glad you were delivered from comedy. Cheap laughs are like a mountain of coal in contrast to the diamonds delivered via your efforts.
Thank you.
I seldom remember a dream but one comes to mind that changed my way of thinkin. My brother-in-law was a great man and also one of my best friends. He got cancer and died rather suddenly at 53.
He showed up in a vivid dream and said to me, ” tell dad that we don’t all go to Heaven”. In the dream I downplayed his message and he got upset and sternly looked me in the face and said TELL DAD!
It was as if he saw a list when he got there and found out his dad wasn’t on the list.
Right when he said “TELL DAD!” he vanished from the dream, I suddenly woke up and next to my bed there was a paperback book written by Billy Graham. I don’t know where it came from but I gave it to his dad and told him about the dream.
His dad never mentioned the book or anything to me about the conversation ever again.
My brother-in-law never came back to tell me anything in another dream. I don’t know if anything changed for his dad but it changed me. I try to plant a little seed in the minds of more people now in hope that they can get their name on the list.
I found out that we don’t all go to Heaven and there is no second chance to get in after you die. You absolutely have to chose to accept Jesus while you are alive or you don’t get to go to Heaven.
Hell is the permanent separation from not only God but from your loved ones that made it in.
First – thanks to HSF and all for this.
Next – so the Creator God is a loser. 90+ % of mankind is destined to be separated from Him fo ev ah because THEY in their supreme ignorance decided to do their own thang and told Him to pound sand.
I dont think so.
Free Will is an illusion. Nuff said.
You can think whatever you want and you just proved you have the free will to do it.
Hell is full of fools. More said.
Many people dream of loved ones who have passed on. Many people have experienced this, including myself. The part of we don’t all go to heaven can mean many things. It could mean we do not all go to the same heaven, and the bible has references to many heavens as Paul talks about a man being stuck in the 3rd heaven. Eternal damnation is the biggest fallacy of Christianity. It was perpetuated by the priest craft to give them power over the masses. Jesus talked about the many mansions. This is levels of heaven. The loving God Jesus talks of is 100% contradictory to the God of the old scriptures that preached and eye for an eye. Souls that do extreme evil have to spend time in The Seven Worlds of Avernus, hellish regions, for a period of time before moving on.
thank you for that – seems like hsf’s story and telling is very good at eliciting like memories in other who read here, which it just did for me here as well. the details of my like recollection at this moment are unimportant.
to me its as pointless as discussing the quantity if angels on the head of a pin – which is probably apocryphal anyway – an absurdity cloaking genuine seeking after God, like so many others.
if Christ consciousness is universally accessible and timeless (which it is truly, or meaningless along with any other higher human aim), any human that’s ever existed who can, did and will experience it cannot remain unchanged. past that change, i think we only wish light for everyone as the only right path. Christianity, and not the wrapping of human corruption, is this in its simplest form; an attempt to share light with all, completely accepting of human nature as it is, offering us all a path past the limits that every human confronts if we’re willing to accept the “embarrassment” and “awkwardness” attendant when the label (and the cartoon of it drawn for the world of lies) is accepted.
so its always a problem for it that evil dislikes light, and light in one’s soul will find opposition and a lifelong battle. humans are frail and flawed regardless of the labels they choose – and now we live in an era when its fashionable to tar everything Christian as hypocritical and fake, and see existence, all if it, as a dichotomy or dilemma, with the other side of the bet concluding we can not ever be more than meat puppets.
i cannot accept that the choice is either corrupt christianity, or perfect atheism, as per dennett or dawkins. false choices hold no interest to me. there’s only one real choice, dark or light.
peace.
Thank you for this story. Beautifully told!
What an amazing story, eloquently written and generously shared. In life’s journey we occasionally find ourselves in circumstances that test our resolve and bravery, and once successfully navigated, these become key, seminal moments in our lives. Reading this story brought back memories of such an occurrence in my own life. Circumstances that started as joyous, but then slowly turned to quite dangerous, then critical, but eventually ended with myself helping someone else in danger. All made possible by a stranger who went out of his way to help me. That stranger, BTW, was – a farmer. Hmm.
Amazing story, wowww. As a mom who raised 3 boys, this hit me. Thanks for being a hero❤️
“and that young boy with his head back, face to the sky offering no resistance,”
The young boy had to have been experiencing a sweetest full of life moment by not resisting. Then another one knowing how survival-like you showed him in a moment of rapid togetherness.
hsf – is it possible that day is when that mile wide streak of self interest stopped getting wider – i have seen so many times when friends had a moment when what they thought they were was just discovered to be a wrapping. that’s a deeply personal question i know, and probably reads as pretentious, but really just sincere curiosity.
we sure get more interesting the longer we live and reflect, but i find it harder and harder to convey the meaning of all that. you clearly have no such difficulty brother.
thanks.
I wish. It took a few more years before the switch flipped. Oddly enough it was because I got a dog from a shelter to travel with me.
A rescue dog.
But that’s another story.
Your story has been on my mind for a couple of days for multiple reasons. It was uplifting to read, not only your courage to act instantly and selflessly for someone you didn’t know, but the discovery, so many years later, that it was someone you do know.
You illustrated the limitless possibilities for dreams to resurrect a forgotten moment which opened an important door to understanding that selfless gifts to others return manyfold.
Thank you.
When I lived in Florida (a six-month day at the beach courtesy of an eccentric Aunt and Cousin in Pensacola) I attended a monthly meeting (at least three times!) of the Backdoor Poets, a group of semi-academic types who met monthly to share their writings, poems or critique of other writings appealing to those types of intelligentsia on college campuses in the 1980s.
A youngish (20) man read a poem entitled “While No One Noticed” about the day he was swimming laps in the campus pool and had gotten tangled in some netting that caused him to end up at the bottom of the pool struggling to get it off his arms and legs, failing and growing almost unconscious from lack of air as he floated to the surface and spent several minutes vomiting and hacking up water, trying to catch his breath.
And, while he’d almost died… no one had noticed.
The world is flat where I grew up.
And, little farmgirls wear bright pink on their Daddy’s knee.
I know his daddy and I can tell you whose farm that is way back there behind them.
The world is flat there.