For Wilshire Baptist Church
Sometimes our lives play out in circles of activity that connect past, present and future.
Wednesday evening I planned to drop LeAnn off at church for kid’s choir, go check George Gagliardi’s mailbox while he continued to convalesce, then circle back to church for Bible study. But, it’s been a busy week and LeAnn suggested I might want to go to White Rock Lake instead and just sit quietly for a while. “You used to love to do that,” she said.
Yes, the lake has been a focal point most of my adult life. I lived nearby for almost 20 years, and even when I didn’t, I would cycle to it and circle it, sometimes walk, or simply just go and sit and think. It’s always been a good place for cycling and thinking.
The sun was setting as I left the church, so I decided to go to the lake first before going to George’s. On this visit I neither exercised nor thought about much. I mostly just watched day turn to night. Parked on a hill above the lake, I watched the lights come up on the downtown skyline as the sun went down and the sky turned from deep orange to dark blue. Out on the water I could see the green and white lights of sculling boats crossing the calm, dark water as they circled back to their home docks.
From there I drove toward George’s apartment and got caught in evening traffic, first at Casa Linda and then at Lakewood. When I finally broke free and passed the Lakewood Theater, I had a flash of memory of a time when I was in high school and drove in the rain at rush hour from Richardson to one of the storefronts in that strip center. I went to learn about a part-time “job opportunity” I saw in the newspaper. I got there, frazzled and wet, only to learn the job was selling kitchen knives door-to-door. I was polite and stayed through the pitch, but sales would never be for me.
At George’s apartment, I found his mailbox full of the same clutter we all get. Offers for new health plans, cleaning services, bathroom remodels. I laughed out loud when I found an envelope announcing “Affordable Car Insurance” — sent to a man who has never owned a car.
George also had lots of solicitations from nonprofits. Much of that is obviously just from blind mailing lists, but I know from experience some recurring mail is generated when we give even just a little bit to a cause. From what I can tell, George is as generous with his limited resources as he is with his talent and friendship.
Driving back to Wilshire on Abrams, I noticed Jeff Patton’s giant Christmas tree tent already up in the parking lot at Hillside Village. No surprise since Christmas lights are already popping on all over town. I’ve even seen a few artificial trees in front windows, but soon you’ll be able to get a real one at Patton’s or other tree lots.
George and I had a tradition of shopping for Christmas trees and hauling his chosen one in my SUV back to his apartment. Some years he wanted to shop around but the last few we went straight to Patton’s. Jeff would always give George a deep discount in exchange for music lessons or playing at a party. Last year George confided he was frustrated because Jeff had never redeemed his side of the transaction. I told him not to worry; their lives had diverged and Jeff just enjoyed seeing him come around every year.
That was Wednesday evening. The earth and moon circled the heavens overnight, and Thursday morning when the sun was barely up, George departed for that promised land he often sang about. There’ll be no traffic jams, no bills to pay or junk mail to sort. The lights will never go down and the sun will always be shining. He won’t need to get a Christmas tree this year or ever again. I’m sure they’ll have one next to the piano reserved for him.