The Book
I am not very skilled in communicating in text, for that is why I usually use verse as my expressive medium. Today I need to try and spell out a true most beautiful story that I was the beneficiary of.
As this is real life it is a long story, which encompasses many aspects of life. It portrays the true beauty of this network when genuine people make real contacts touching across endless time zones.
This story portrays a young girls search for a father figure after her father had died. This story portrays almost telepathic thoughts, the coming together of apparently unrelated ideas, and cumulates with the most tender touch across the generations and sexual barrier.
For this is what has happened to me.
A very nice lady came into my mailbox as a lurker resulting from one of my "Welcome To Sunday" posts.
I initially sent my usual response which is short and polite to people I do not really know. I was initially very wary of this new contact and delayed opening a proper communication dialogue until I had checked everything out that what was in my power to check.
Many bad experiences with the witches that over-fly this network had taught me by bitter experience never to accept anything at face value.
In this case my apprehension was unfounded.
I commenced a dialogue with this most charming lady in Utah. There was and is still much to discuss. An understanding of different cultures, political system differences and of course the culture of the American Multi-National company.
This lady had lots of experience as she had worked for Hughes Aerospace before she retired. My own Norwegian company had just been taken over by GE, so it was helpful to me to have an insight into this culture as it was entering my own life at that time.
The biggest difference that we had was that of education. Mine pure mathematics and cold engineering, whilst this lady was more balanced and extremely well read. The only thing I had read in the last 40 years were Technical Manuals, so I often felt inadequate when this subject came up for I had so little to offer.
Undaunted this lady set about motivating me to read certain books. I always intended too, but in my busy schedule a visit to the bookstore would fall off my daily list of priorities. Instead of re-proaching me, this lady in Utah sent me this book by snail mail.
I read it..I never put it down...I re-read it and read
it for the third time.
This book had a very powerful effect on me as I could so easily see the writer. So inspired I wrote the poem "This mans search for meaning"
I have used it in a past "Welcome to Sunday" This poem was and still is the best I had ever achieved.
Meanwhile in my professional working environment, a lady a lot younger than my son had lost her father.
This girl slowly but surely adopted me. Why I do not know. The relationship was always totally innocent and she became to understand the restrictions I have due to ill health.
I tried to be supportive in her time of need within the confines of the age difference.
She certainly supported me and soon had the ability to look behind the image that all engineers have in a cut-throat commercial world.
Showing an interest in my poems, she would often take the original draft.
Generations met and understood.
This girl borrowed my book, read it twice before returning it.
Through out this time she would ask for explanations of situations she could have little understanding of with her tender years.
I would always take the time to explain as best I could. But I found it remarkable that one so young, not only would read this book, but go to these lengths to understand fully the events.
I was impressed, not a common feeling amongst hard nosed engineers like myself.
This book was lent out many times until it eventually became lost as someone forgot to return it. By now all the text would be faded after so many eyes had extracted the message.
The lady in Utah for no explainable reason suddenly sent me another 2 copies of this book.
These were a total surprise to me as I collected them from my mail box. I felt sure that Amazon.com had made an error and sent the order twice. On closer inspection this was not the case as the gift message clearly said "One for the lending library and one for number 1.
They arrived on one of my bad days, so I promptly fell asleep on the sofa, leaving both on the table.
On awakening some hours later, I suddenly realised that I was in my last days at work, and felt the urge to give one of these books to this young girl simply because she had taken the time to see who "This Steve" really was.
I phoned the lady in Utah to express my thanks for this unexpected gift, and she replied you need two, but I do not know why.
I explained and asked her permission to give one away. Her permission was forthcoming, with a remark of, I just knew you needed two copies.
The following day, early before the girl was at work, I placed the book in an envelope on her desk with a little note inviting her to read the flysheet.
I did not wish to be there when she opened it as it could have embarrassed her. The lady arrived at work, opened the envelope and took half an hour to compose herself, before she came into my office.
Clearly emotionally touched, the girl was most appreciative.
Operating within the confines of a professional environment and ever watchful of the generation gap, the girl reached out. Holding the back of my hand was the only physical contact that ever took place between us.
It may have only been a gentle touch.. But it portrayed the beauty that can be found amongst the dreadful debris that constantly affects our lives. She said "I will treasure this and when life knocks me down I will re-read it to re-discover my perspective".
This is the message I had pasted inside the fly-sheet of that book:-
This book had a very powerful effect on me as I could so easily see the writer. So inspired I wrote the poem "This mans search for meaning"
I have used it in a past "Welcome to Sunday" This poem was and still is the best I had ever achieved.
Meanwhile in my professional working environment, a lady a lot younger than my son had lost her father.
This girl slowly but surely adopted me. Why I do not know. The relationship was always totally innocent and she became to understand the restrictions I have due to ill health.
I tried to be supportive in her time of need within the confines of the age difference.
She certainly supported me and soon had the ability to look behind the image that all engineers have in a cut-throat commercial world.
Showing an interest in my poems, she would often take the original draft.
Generations met and understood.
This girl borrowed my book, read it twice before returning it.
Through out this time she would ask for explanations of situations she could have little understanding of with her tender years.
I would always take the time to explain as best I could. But I found it remarkable that one so young, not only would read this book, but go to these lengths to understand fully the events.
I was impressed, not a common feeling amongst hard nosed engineers like myself.
This book was lent out many times until it eventually became lost as someone forgot to return it. By now all the text would be faded after so many eyes had extracted the message.
The lady in Utah for no explainable reason suddenly sent me another 2 copies of this book.
These were a total surprise to me as I collected them from my mail box. I felt sure that Amazon.com had made an error and sent the order twice. On closer inspection this was not the case as the gift message clearly said "One for the lending library and one for number 1.
They arrived on one of my bad days, so I promptly fell asleep on the sofa, leaving both on the table.
On awakening some hours later, I suddenly realised that I was in my last days at work, and felt the urge to give one of these books to this young girl simply because she had taken the time to see who "This Steve" really was.
I phoned the lady in Utah to express my thanks for this unexpected gift, and she replied you need two, but I do not know why.
I explained and asked her permission to give one away. Her permission was forthcoming, with a remark of, I just knew you needed two copies.
The following day, early before the girl was at work, I placed the book in an envelope on her desk with a little note inviting her to read the flysheet.
I did not wish to be there when she opened it as it could have embarrassed her. The lady arrived at work, opened the envelope and took half an hour to compose herself, before she came into my office.
Clearly emotionally touched, the girl was most appreciative.
Operating within the confines of a professional environment and ever watchful of the generation gap, the girl reached out. Holding the back of my hand was the only physical contact that ever took place between us.
It may have only been a gentle touch.. But it portrayed the beauty that can be found amongst the dreadful debris that constantly affects our lives. She said "I will treasure this and when life knocks me down I will re-read it to re-discover my perspective".
This is the message I had pasted inside the fly-sheet of that book:-
For Julie, as she took the time
These scars so old and yet so visible
To be on display is not permissible
Try as I may I can never hide from you
Touch a nerve and they are on view.
Would prefer that this be not the case
For personal dragons I quietly chase
Maintain the image that the world does see
But when with you I have to be me
Too many memories too graphic the damnation's
Too many regrets and self recriminations
Too many deaths and life threatening obscenity
Too many decisions questioning to infinity.
A lifetime of events that need filing away
Are accessed by your love this very day
A quiet touch will trigger this tear
From the very man who holds you so near.
Tis your warmth gentle kindness and loving touch
That breaks down these barriers to expose so much
For I know the why and with the how be content
As I value this love for it is heaven sent.
With this man comes a painful history
But to you in my arms it is no mystery
Be not surprised at this emotional show
As we travel this path with some way to go.
Tis a love I feel that breaks down a machine
Exposing to you this simple being
Vulnerable fragile and with it climbs higher
Love is the highest goal to which man can aspire.
Steve. Aka. "The Old Sea Dog". 2000. ©