Passing on good advice

As I sat in a coffee shop, waiting for the rain to pass, an elderly man came in and got a coffee and sat at the table next to me. I sat looking at this man, his back straight, although his body well weathered. His eyebrows has stretched with age, so they drooped over his eyelids to the point where you couldn't see them for the eyebrow skin. But his eyes shone, with a twinkle of youth. And he wore this gigantic gap-toothed smile, with creases from his eyes to his neck. Wore it like it wore it every day of his life.

We started chatting about the weather, as all good conversations have to start somewhere. One thing lead to the next, and we ended up talking for 20 minutes, as he told me stories from his time gone by. He worked in a mill when he was 18 or 19. Carried in his lunch box, did his job, at his peanut butter and jam sandwich, breathed in the polluted air, and went home. It was a simple life. Then one day he looked around and saw these 65 year old men, with their lunch boxes, peanut butter and jam sandwiches, breathing in the same polluted air he was, and he realized that they were him, just 45 years later. The next day he quit. He didn't want to live that life, and he saw his future in those men, and heard it in their coughs.

He worked different trades from then until now, learning some skill or another, using it, until a new one was required. You could tell he didn't have a lot of money, his clothes were well worn and his discourse was grough. But he was happy.

As the rain had temporarily let up, I had to go and move my tent from the bear path (the previous night, I'd set it up on the path the bear walks nightly to get to the garbage bin) to the church (talk about getting closer to God). We said our goodbyes, and I headed for the door. As I had it pulled open, he called out to me "Hey," and flashed his gap-tooth grin my way, "enjoy your life, it's the only one you've got!"

I thought that was some pretty good advice.