To Harry From New Jersey
I wish I had taken a picture of you so that I could remember your face better and so that I had something to show when I spoke of you. I truly enjoyed our chats those summer evenings, both of us exhausted from the days travels, yet both not quite willing to give up the day.
Who would have thought that we would have began a conversation based on the fact that two others outside were having a very loud conversation. Ours began as kind of a would you listen to them shrug and then evolved into a so where are you from and then somewhere along the way became a philosophical discussion on how you can’t choose your family. Long after the two tipsy gentlemen went in for the night, we sat still.
That first night outside the Holiday Inn Laurel West not far from our nation’s capitol, we smoked a few, we laughed, there were some tears on my part and we simply communicated. I learned that Harry is an ex-marine, although I hear that’s not an entirely true statement as apparently there is no such thing as an ex marine, from New Jersey. He served his time in the core in the recon company and that’s how he cleaned up his life. He really did go into the service on a jail or marines tour sometime in the 70s. A program our military he says, “Thankfully.” doesn’t employ anymore. I laughed at the irony of his statement and so did he.
Harry now works for a chiller management company. He is a project manager, which means he’s the boss and makes sure everything gets installed properly from the boilers to the thermostats in major office building and hospitals. I laughed and said, “So its your fault I’m either too hot or too cold.” He just shrugged and said, “Yep.” He is attending a training in D.C. on more efficient chillers and how to program them.
He made me think of all those people that say, you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. Maybe you can’t, but Harry was learning them. He is also several weeks into the P90X program and could probably outrun me with out even trying. I am in awe and realize that reinventing oneself is a matter of commitment. Harry didn’t want to keep taking the pills the doctor prescribed for diabetes, so he picked a serious work out regiment, and has been able to reduce his dosages significantly.
I simply listened to Harry talk about his parents and their passing. His brother who didn’t attend the funeral. His great stories about the government blowing up the desert in the 70s where he was stationed. I learned that the base he was at, is the only marine base where they do not require you to shine your boots, because the temperature is so high, that it melts the wax used to shine them right off. I learned that the great state of Texas for the most part is loved. I am not sure why they love us, but Harry was glad that his next training was in Houston. He simply grinned at me when he mentioned it like a kid who had a secret.
On the second night I stepped outside after a grueling day, Harry was there. He was watching the end of the Red Sox game on his phone. They won! I forgot to ask him why a man from Jersey was a Red Sox fan. The second night we were quieter. Simply two people enjoying the quiet of the moment. I found the courage to ask him why Jersey is called the garden state and learned that New Jersey has more horse farms than Kentucky and is a large exporter of tomatoes, who knew? I listened as he told me about his crazy psychiatrist friend which I found quite hilarious. The psychiatrist who called Harry when they had problems, but the more I thought about it, the more normal it seemed. Everybody needs somebody they can call, even psychiatrists.
He made me blush when he talked about how teachers are called to their profession like priests or soldiers. We both teared as I recalled the days journey into Arlington National Cemetary. I told him about the parade and birthday celebration we attended for the Army’s 238th birthday and he told me about how he was having trouble on the simulator for the new program he was writing for an advanced chiller system. I had no idea what he was talking about, so I smiled and nodded like I do when my dad talks about programming his CNC machine.
As we put out our upteenth cigarette, we looked at each other and said our good nights. I extended my hand and said, “Nice to meet you, I’m Rachel.” He said,”Harry”. I traveled to the 2nd floor, he on to the 6th. I did not see Harry the next morning and we did not return to the hotel that night, but all the way home on the plane and now as I write, I regret not getting Harry’s last name or at least an e-mail address. I tried google, but I can’t remember the name of the company he works for and well there are a lot of Harrys in New Jersey.
I guess I just want to be like his psychiatrist friend, something in the way his voice was so calm even when he was commenting on the anatomy of a ref during the Red Sox game. He was just Harry form New Jersey with that great accent and all. Thank you Harry for allowing me to cry a bit on a stranger’s shoulder when the events of the day had become a little trying. I am sorry I didn’t get to ask you what your tattoos meant or wish you good luck on your next project.
I went to our nation’s capitol as most do, a pilgrimage of sorts to find our roots, to maybe touch a piece of history and maybe find some connection in this great melting pot of America. I did touch a piece of history. I stood in the same room as our constitution. I stood in the same house where George Washington died and I fell silent at the wall, but I think I found a treasure meeting Harry. I was able to share my journey with him and he a bit with me. We were simply two people at the same place and time. Two people who started a conversation and found some common ground. That we did it in the shadow of our forefathers is not a coincidence. I believe that it was an affirmation of what our forefathers set out to create. We may all have different backgrounds, different beliefs, but if we just communicate with one another, look what we can accomplish.
So where ever you are out there, Harry from New Jersey, good night and safe travels from East Texas.
Who would have thought that we would have began a conversation based on the fact that two others outside were having a very loud conversation. Ours began as kind of a would you listen to them shrug and then evolved into a so where are you from and then somewhere along the way became a philosophical discussion on how you can’t choose your family. Long after the two tipsy gentlemen went in for the night, we sat still.
That first night outside the Holiday Inn Laurel West not far from our nation’s capitol, we smoked a few, we laughed, there were some tears on my part and we simply communicated. I learned that Harry is an ex-marine, although I hear that’s not an entirely true statement as apparently there is no such thing as an ex marine, from New Jersey. He served his time in the core in the recon company and that’s how he cleaned up his life. He really did go into the service on a jail or marines tour sometime in the 70s. A program our military he says, “Thankfully.” doesn’t employ anymore. I laughed at the irony of his statement and so did he.
Harry now works for a chiller management company. He is a project manager, which means he’s the boss and makes sure everything gets installed properly from the boilers to the thermostats in major office building and hospitals. I laughed and said, “So its your fault I’m either too hot or too cold.” He just shrugged and said, “Yep.” He is attending a training in D.C. on more efficient chillers and how to program them.
He made me think of all those people that say, you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. Maybe you can’t, but Harry was learning them. He is also several weeks into the P90X program and could probably outrun me with out even trying. I am in awe and realize that reinventing oneself is a matter of commitment. Harry didn’t want to keep taking the pills the doctor prescribed for diabetes, so he picked a serious work out regiment, and has been able to reduce his dosages significantly.
I simply listened to Harry talk about his parents and their passing. His brother who didn’t attend the funeral. His great stories about the government blowing up the desert in the 70s where he was stationed. I learned that the base he was at, is the only marine base where they do not require you to shine your boots, because the temperature is so high, that it melts the wax used to shine them right off. I learned that the great state of Texas for the most part is loved. I am not sure why they love us, but Harry was glad that his next training was in Houston. He simply grinned at me when he mentioned it like a kid who had a secret.
On the second night I stepped outside after a grueling day, Harry was there. He was watching the end of the Red Sox game on his phone. They won! I forgot to ask him why a man from Jersey was a Red Sox fan. The second night we were quieter. Simply two people enjoying the quiet of the moment. I found the courage to ask him why Jersey is called the garden state and learned that New Jersey has more horse farms than Kentucky and is a large exporter of tomatoes, who knew? I listened as he told me about his crazy psychiatrist friend which I found quite hilarious. The psychiatrist who called Harry when they had problems, but the more I thought about it, the more normal it seemed. Everybody needs somebody they can call, even psychiatrists.
He made me blush when he talked about how teachers are called to their profession like priests or soldiers. We both teared as I recalled the days journey into Arlington National Cemetary. I told him about the parade and birthday celebration we attended for the Army’s 238th birthday and he told me about how he was having trouble on the simulator for the new program he was writing for an advanced chiller system. I had no idea what he was talking about, so I smiled and nodded like I do when my dad talks about programming his CNC machine.
As we put out our upteenth cigarette, we looked at each other and said our good nights. I extended my hand and said, “Nice to meet you, I’m Rachel.” He said,”Harry”. I traveled to the 2nd floor, he on to the 6th. I did not see Harry the next morning and we did not return to the hotel that night, but all the way home on the plane and now as I write, I regret not getting Harry’s last name or at least an e-mail address. I tried google, but I can’t remember the name of the company he works for and well there are a lot of Harrys in New Jersey.
I guess I just want to be like his psychiatrist friend, something in the way his voice was so calm even when he was commenting on the anatomy of a ref during the Red Sox game. He was just Harry form New Jersey with that great accent and all. Thank you Harry for allowing me to cry a bit on a stranger’s shoulder when the events of the day had become a little trying. I am sorry I didn’t get to ask you what your tattoos meant or wish you good luck on your next project.
I went to our nation’s capitol as most do, a pilgrimage of sorts to find our roots, to maybe touch a piece of history and maybe find some connection in this great melting pot of America. I did touch a piece of history. I stood in the same room as our constitution. I stood in the same house where George Washington died and I fell silent at the wall, but I think I found a treasure meeting Harry. I was able to share my journey with him and he a bit with me. We were simply two people at the same place and time. Two people who started a conversation and found some common ground. That we did it in the shadow of our forefathers is not a coincidence. I believe that it was an affirmation of what our forefathers set out to create. We may all have different backgrounds, different beliefs, but if we just communicate with one another, look what we can accomplish.
So where ever you are out there, Harry from New Jersey, good night and safe travels from East Texas.
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