97 Silver Thread

A week or so ago, my field operations supervisor was replaced without much warning. The new guy showed up at my meeting spot for my people. I instantly took a liking to him but I wasnt sure why.

He is a gentleman of about 60, white hair, neatly trimmed, tall, well groomed and well mannered. Okay, I can see already as I write it down that this should be an indication that he probably has his stuff together. He has a well-weathered look about him and his skin has been blessed by age with many lines, telling stories of his past and maybe his future. Lots of wrinkles from smiling, some from worry and a few I attributed to his smoking.UGH. Bad habit to say the least, but, to each his own. He is slightly taller than myself, thin and looks as though he could still hold his own in a tussle.

As I spoke to him, I learned he was prior military like myself, although he stayed in considerably longer. He was a first sergeant when he retired. That explained the previous couple paragraphs. His voice was what drew me to him. The timbre of his voice was exactly like that of an uncle I have that used to be near and dear to me. I havent spoken to my uncle for quite some time, and even though we are at loggerheads, this gentleman's voice immediately put me at ease. Deep, but not too deep, it was both soothing to hear and I suppose, for lack of a better word: nostalgic. It reminded me, as so many little things often do, of fond memories from my youth. We have spoken often in the last couple weeks and he never fails to take the stress from me, even if it is not spoken aloud. I believe we have become fast friends.

Isnt it funny how the links and bonds between people can carry over and through the people that you meet? People come in and out of our lives, each taking a piece of you and leaving something. This man, simply by being born with a certain growth pattern of his vocal chords, coupled with a personality that is both no-nonsense and charming, struck a chord with me, a total stranger, within seconds. We probably wont work together more than 6 months or so, but if I live a thousand years, I'll remember him fondly.

A couple days ago, at the same meeting spot, my workers were meeting, getting and giving paperwork and assignments. My f.o.s. came in and sat down, talking a bit here and there with the people around us. A girl of around 30 was near me and I noticed that she had quit working and was staring intently at him. She didnt blink, didnt move and I noticed that the blood vessels in her eyes were getting larger, almost as though they would burst. She was flushed, breathing very shallow and her eyes never wavered from his face. At first I thought she was angry or that maybe she knew him. It appeared she was ready to scream at him(at the very least) or that she might jump up and hit him with the nearest blunt object. After a moment or so, I saw her eyes welling up with tears and I asked her if she was alright. That's when she lost it. She began sobbing and told the gentleman that she was sorry. When she calmed down, she said that when he had sat down, she had thought it was her Dad. She had to stare for a while to make sure that it wasnt him. He'd passed away in August of last year. She said the resemblance was so uncanny, she really thought it could have been him.

As she left to compose her self, I was reminded of so many other incidents like this. People having a thin line of "something" running through them and carrying on, into others. A stranger, standing in line somewhere, not looking at all like your friend/loved one, but the feeling you get from them making you think about the other person. There is a feeling there that you got from your friend, and sometimes, without saying a word, a stranger has that same feeling.

My Grandad passed away two years ago and often there are those among my family(myself included) that will smell cigar smoke where there is none and be reminded that wherever he is on his journey, he still looks back to us, to this point in his existence. My nephew was quite small when Pap was almost gone. Lying in his bed, coming in and out of consciousness, we took turns holding the little boy. One of the last things Pap said was his name. Not long after, my nephew, River, began the usual toddler things: talking, walking, picking up bad habits from uncles, you know? Roz and I and my sister began noticing little things at first. He had many of the same mannerism that Pap had. He displayed the same, defiant attitude towards life. Not just a toddlers attitude, mind you. The physical resemblance is nil. He looks more like me than Pap, but the "vibe" you get from him is all Pap. He is raucous and ornery, incessant and inquisitive. Yes, most toddlers are, but this seems different to us. He simply exudes the same feeling that we got from Pap. Now if we can keep him away from alcohol and loose women.

Some religions talk of a thread or line connecting the soul and the body. I believe the Hindus that practice having out-of-body experiences, describe their travelling spirit, or soul or what-have-you, as being connected to their physical body by a thin, silver chord. What if it this chord that weaves in and out of the 6 or 7 billion people on this planet? I think it is many different chords, weaving by chance or not, through one or many people. There is a sort of ethereal connection between many of us, although you may or may not ever run into someone that you get this feeling from. If you have, you simply "know" that the person in question is a kindred spirit to either you or the person you are reminded of.

Long years ago, I left my wife and home for my adventure in the Army. Upon arriving at MEPS in Pittsburgh, I met a young man, destined to be a friend for life, although we rarely get time to see each other any more. We spoke briefly in the various lines and departments as we were in-processed, but not until we were transported to another location did we get to talk much. I felt like I'd known Tim my entire life, yet I didnt know any details of his life before we met. It didnt really matter to me what the details were, I simply "knew" that we would be good friends. The thread, or line or whatever you want to call it, travelled through us both, and upon a chance meeting, has bound us together for life. We hadnt seen each other in years, but in 2003 or so, we visited Tim and his lovely wife Judy. It was like we had never left. There were no presumptions made, no false sentiments exchanged. We simply picked up where we had left off.

If this line or thread had not existed, could we have done this? I dont think so. At least not without some effort. So here we are. Your mind will lead down many paths in life, past many people and into some of their lives. More often than not, I think, the ones you are drawn to, whether perfect or flawed, have a piece of that thread sewn into them. Into their souls and maybe, if not through yours, it goes around you, close enough(if it is to your liking)for you to feel it. These are the ties that bind, the thread of life, that tells your soul it is there, waiting to be grasped, and it is for you to decide whether to hold on or let it slip by you, perhaps to loop around or near once again, someday...