Nick, Again

I see Nick all of the time. We chat about whatever's going on in our lives.

Yesterday he looked like it was having a bit of a rough time. This was just my obesrvation; Nick doesn't complain. He explained that he was just coming out of a bit of pneumonia and had a new appreciation for the importance of breathing. He had taken for granted the ability to and importance of breathing all of the way in and all of the way out. He observed, in a somewhat clinical fashion, that it's possible to feel little explosions inside your lungs when things aren't working the way they should. He paused to cough lightly from time to time throughout our conversation.



I'd been feeling bad about some things I thought were problems in my life: Car trouble, not as much money as I wish, missing my partner. Nick sort of helped me adjust my perspective on how much I have to be grateful for. Again.

Nick and Legacies

I had to run into Evanston, Wyoming today to pick up a couple of things for my office. I had to stop to show my receipt to the the "greeter" (a euphemism for "gonna try and catch you stealing our crap") because a couple of the things were too big and heavy to put into bags, and so were just in my cart. He was very nice about it. I've seen this guy around before. We've exchanged light pleasantries on other occasions.



Once cleared, I dug in and started moving the heavy cart when the standard, parting "have a nice day" went from the mundane to the personal. As I was leaving he said "you look like the sort of guy who has nice days." Interesting. I had thought the same thing about him but just hadn't bothered to find a rhetorical formulation, so I told him so. We chatted a bit

He told me he'd been diagnosed with congestive heart failure some time before, and it had gotten pretty bad. But he'd survived, and since that time he'd had lots of good days. I couldn't help but feel that the quality of the days he'd had lately had more to do with his spirit than the way his body felt.

Nick (we shared names officially) told me that it was important to him that he leave some sort of legacy, in his children, with people he knew, maybe even with a stranger impressed by an act of kindness, so that when he was finally gone he wasn't really gone. And so Nick has ended up in this humble blog, for however long it lasts.

And a little bit of him has ended up in me.