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Jan/Feb 2010
His name was Joel. He was a friend of mine at college - not one of my closest but definitely a friend. The one thing I remember most about him was that he was a genuinely nice guy – one of those people who never seemed to have a bad attitude. One morning as I walked across campus I met Joel on the sidewalk. “How are you doing?” I asked. “I’m good” he said. “I’m headed to see the Dean [of students]. He wants to see me for some reason.” We said our goodbyes and each of us headed our respective ways. A short while later I learned from the Dean that the reason he needed to see Joel was to break the news to him that his father had just died from a completely unexpected heart attack.
That brief encounter left an indelible mark on me. I have long since wondered what I would have done differently had I known what awaited Joel at the end of that sidewalk. I don’t mean to be overly dramatic but sometimes when I sit at intersections I find myself looking into the faces of the people who drive by and wondering what’s going on in their lives. You know as well as I do, some seem happy, some sad, and some even look as though they had vinegar instead of coffee at breakfast. But, you know, everyone has a story. We never really know, and only occasionally find out, what is happening or what they are about to face. If we did, perhaps we could help them better. That is, assuming we want to. May I be really candid with you for a moment? Sometimes I don’t want to help. I just want other people to get their act together and get the heck out of my way. One of my pet peeves is people who use turn lanes as their own private highway. Just this week I had someone do that to me literally a fourth of the entire way through Rainsville. Trust me; it was a long time before I found myself wondering what would possess a person to think that it is okay to appropriate one-fifth of the highway for your own personal and private use. But then again, how would I really know what was going on?
I’ve just recently been reminded how imperfect I am. You can thank my church for that. We are undertaking a study based upon the simple principle that we all have hurts, hang-ups, and habits. I definitely qualify. I’ve also found it quite refreshing to realize I am around a lot of people who know they aren’t perfect either. And that brings me to my final point. It is in helping others and being helped by them that our journeys down the sidewalks and through the intersections of life become bearable.
What would I have done differently that morning when I stopped to speak to Joel had I known what awaited him? I can only hope I would’ve walked with him.
Of Sidewalks and Intersections
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Fred Johnson is General Manager of Farmers Telecommunications Cooperative, Inc.
His name was Joel. He was a friend of mine at college - not one of my closest but definitely a friend. The one thing I remember most about him was that he was a genuinely nice guy – one of those people who never seemed to have a bad attitude. One morning as I walked across campus I met Joel on the sidewalk. “How are you doing?” I asked. “I’m good” he said. “I’m headed to see the Dean [of students]. He wants to see me for some reason.” We said our goodbyes and each of us headed our respective ways. A short while later I learned from the Dean that the reason he needed to see Joel was to break the news to him that his father had just died from a completely unexpected heart attack.
That brief encounter left an indelible mark on me. I have long since wondered what I would have done differently had I known what awaited Joel at the end of that sidewalk. I don’t mean to be overly dramatic but sometimes when I sit at intersections I find myself looking into the faces of the people who drive by and wondering what’s going on in their lives. You know as well as I do, some seem happy, some sad, and some even look as though they had vinegar instead of coffee at breakfast. But, you know, everyone has a story. We never really know, and only occasionally find out, what is happening or what they are about to face. If we did, perhaps we could help them better. That is, assuming we want to. May I be really candid with you for a moment? Sometimes I don’t want to help. I just want other people to get their act together and get the heck out of my way. One of my pet peeves is people who use turn lanes as their own private highway. Just this week I had someone do that to me literally a fourth of the entire way through Rainsville. Trust me; it was a long time before I found myself wondering what would possess a person to think that it is okay to appropriate one-fifth of the highway for your own personal and private use. But then again, how would I really know what was going on?
I’ve just recently been reminded how imperfect I am. You can thank my church for that. We are undertaking a study based upon the simple principle that we all have hurts, hang-ups, and habits. I definitely qualify. I’ve also found it quite refreshing to realize I am around a lot of people who know they aren’t perfect either. And that brings me to my final point. It is in helping others and being helped by them that our journeys down the sidewalks and through the intersections of life become bearable.
What would I have done differently that morning when I stopped to speak to Joel had I known what awaited him? I can only hope I would’ve walked with him.
