conversations are pitch-perfect examples of bland. But because he picked up the
phone, this one wasn’t.
I was living in
New York, kind of newly married, and trying to find the schedule for a trip to
see friends in the country. The train I asked him about left around 6:45 p.m.
arrives at 8:08. A very romantic time,” he said.
really know how to live, and make you feel good about living, too.
We talked for a
while about this and that. He wanted to know something about me and I shared
that I was trying to break into the acting business. (Which I was at the time).
“Then you won’t
get all sloppy and greasy,” he said, and we laughed. We talked about a bunch of
other stuff too and though I can’t remember what we said, I do remember it was
fun. It took me out of the world of planes, trains, buses and grit of NYC and
into something sunny and alive.
We never spoke
again, but whenever I look up at the clock and it’s 8:08… I think of him.
Catching the light somewhere, and making it last a little longer. Swimming
against the tide of Disillusioned and Beaten Down.
to make him a character yet – either in a play or fiction. Maybe he doesn’t
need to be? But right now… just had to share with you. Because everyone has an
8:08 story. And if not, they should. Don’t you think?