I took Che to a park today and found a friend.
The old man saw me just this side of the bridge he was crossing and as he stepped off he said "hello" in a way that only an 85 year old Navy Vet could have. With confidence in goodness and pride in the life one had lived. With grace.
He thought he heard me yelling "Charlie" rather than "Che." He said his name was Charlie and asked me if that was my son's name. I couldn't dissapoint him so Che was Charlie for just a short while today.
I don't like people much. Even the best of them can hardly help being hypocritical and fake a disproportionate amount of the time. But the very old and the very young have a harder time cloaking their transparency than the rest of us. Or maybe they just can't be bothered yet? Or anymore?
He fought in World War II, he lost two wives, he moved home to Montana and took a walk, and then he let me in.
I thank him for it.
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