Lighthouse - Short Story

 

Lighthouse

“Let no man imagine he has no influence”
Herman George

 

Approaching the doors, my mind was filled with related thoughts and memories. They swirled in my head, jockeying for position, clarity and ultimately priority.  Opening the doors, one thought finally emerged front, and center and it was one of Paul’s favorite chides: “Only the inconsiderate are late.”   Damn it!  I was here!  I was literally just seconds late.  Regardless, that thought was firmly in my head as I opened and stepped through the doors.  I was surprised at the crowd and while a few looked my way most were focused upon their own thoughts and never noticed me.  I calmed myself joining the throng and recalled the first time Paul had used that phrase on me.  It hit me like a hammer then, as it hit me like a hammer now. 

 

Like today, it was raining, raining hard.  I was walking briskly from the parking area without an umbrella.  I mean who today carries an umbrella?   With a brisk pace I headed to the departure gates, and despite my being a bit late I looked at the crowd.  I love airports!  I suspect those of us with ‘Airport Fascination’ are a select bunch along with those who like bars and pubs.  Oh, not for the haute cuisine and beverage selection, but for the selection of people.  When I walk through the airport, I see a moving tapestry of humanity.  Each person an individual but somehow threaded together to form a story. Each story is different by the location, the airport, season, age etc.  Today’s tapestry was Atlanta at the end of spring break.  Contrary to common thought, airports pre and post spring break are not filled with throngs of college students struggling back to school from their reverie.  There are plenty of them today, but the biggest group apparent in today’s weave are families.  Many are younger adults with very small children, all a common thread.  They have too many bags, too few hands, are short on time and still dressed for warmth and sun while headed back home to brisk weather.  All these thoughts brought a smile to my face as I left TSA and started my walk/run toward the end of the airline concourse.  I slowed quickly however as I neared the gate. The concourse was increasingly congested with people. The jam was caused by two flights at adjacent gates each delayed for, yet by me, unknown reasons.  Unfortunately, one of the flights was mine.  The future passengers on both concourses were a combination of the tapestry I mentioned.  The overladen families, a cadre of disgruntled businessmen, a few still partying students, and finally the over tired students.  They were packed into any available concourse seat they could find.  And. Those that were not routinely scoured the room for any break that could lead to an open seat.  Each had their carry-on luggage tightly stacked near their feet or piled onto their lap.  I use the term carry on sarcastically because while most bags were small enough to fit in an overhead, each person seemed to have enough bags that a sherpa should be present to assist.  Those who could not find a seat were standing by support pillars, or collected near any flat surface upon which they could rest a beverage or food container and ideally plug in their computer or mobile device.  The threads of this tapestry were starting to tell a different story from earlier.  A less wholesome and friendly theme and one of frustration and desperation.

As I approached the gate, it was easy to spot Paul.  Even sitting in this now disgruntled crowd of luggage bearing travelers, he stood out among the throng.  A lean and dapper gentleman in his early sixties, his seated posture was straight but not stiff.  He sat calm and at peace, reading a newspaper, despite the chaos around him. His full head of perfectly quaffed salt and pepper hair was made more fitted to his well-defined but not chiseled face by the matching and meticulously trimmed mustache.  He stood out, not because of his 3-piece suit, which he wore as casually as most wear shorts or sweatpants (which too many in the crowd did).  But because he projected an air of calm in the chaos around him. He was like a lone shade tree in an open field or an oasis in a sea of sand.  Amidst all this anger and frustration, he looked as though he were in a separately controlled environment.  From this distance, I felt as distinct from him as those around him.  I was wearing polo shirt and trousers, cleaned and ironed. My attire was well above most of those in the concourse who wore flip-flops, sweats, and tattered shorts.  I on the other hand, reflected the ’business casual’ attire of today.  In my more conventional and contemporary garb, I felt an unworthy travel companion. My comparative dress and composure compared to Paul better suggested my role should be that of a manservant asking the refined gentleman if he needed a cocktail while he waited.

Although I could easily see him in the crowd, I had to watch my step as I worked my way through people in line to see the gate agents.  Once in line for the agents, I glanced back at him and thought about when I first met him six months earlier.  I had been told I was in line for a promotion and significant pay increase.  That these would align with a new corporate position and business direction.  They neglected to say that it entailed me working as part of a team with a salesman in what was to be a new business model.  It would blend engineering and sales into a Technical Implementation Team.  The concept and goal of this team was to enhance our company’s scope and image with existing customers.  We would provide them with free technical support regarding their use of our products and even that of our competitors.  Doing this would likely attract other markets and establish us as a provider of fine products but also superior customer service.   We would improve efficiency and reduce costs and via that reputation to acquire new business.  The gentleman to whom I was assigned was a salesman, allegedly one of the companies best.  I, was one of the youngest and best engineers (not bragging just realistic).  So we were paired.  I was dubious about this plan and about needing a partner.  However, I would be quickly proven wrong.  Between my relative youth and energy and product engineering knowledge adjoined with Paul’s connections, sales acumen, age, and style; we had expanded our involvement with existing customers and broken new ground within companies previously unattainable.  I would love to think that it was my engineering prowess and innovative thinking that was the key factor.  But it was really Paul initially opening  the various doors and established us as a free technical resource to our customers.  It was Paul who suggested we even apply our capabilities to help in areas not related to our company products.  Via the combination of his looks, age, and experience, he was able to identify needs within the existing and new customers not previously addressed.  He convinced them we could solve their problems, save them money, make their product faster or all three combined.  He would always end by saying: “Give it and us a try. It’s free you have nothing to lose.”  They did.  And it worked.  We, he and I, this team, worked.  Then it was my turn to get the engineering results to validate his promises, but even that I didn’t do it alone.  While I had great ideas, they would often require working through the customer’s internal political structure as well as that of our own company.  Here Paul excelled, creating lines of communication and breaking barriers allowing me to realize my ideas and satisfy the customer.  Yep, we as a team, were freaking awesome.

After a wait that indicated the line might never move, I decided to go directly to Paul and see the gate agents later.  According to the board there was no imminent departure.  The gates were attended by two very tired people who had obviously been assaulted and exhausted with questions about the delay.  I saw no point in adding to a barrage of queries that would receive the same exhausted response.  Bypassing the ticket counter, I wove through running children and crowded aisles toward Paul.  Seeing me he stood up to greet me saying: “You know only the inconsiderate are late.” and then, in true gentlemanly fashion, asked if I wanted his seat. “No thanks.”  I said a little pissed at his first remark.  Replying with a bit of sarcasm: “You should sit and finish your paper while I go find myself a decent drink and food. A man your age needs his rest and I think we may be here a while and I am already starving.”  He had heard every word I’d said but as I talked his gaze drifted over to a young couple standing just a few feet from us at the end of our row of chairs. I could see his distraction and said: “Can I get you something while I am playing hunter gatherer?” He leaned in that direction, stopped, turned to me and said: “Hold the seat Danny, I’ll be back shortly.”  He walked over to the couple and started chatting.  “Yeah, don’t mind me I just got here.” I said to myself with a bite as I guarded an empty seat already being eyed by those standing in the distance.  Once he reached them there was a lot of head nodding from the couple followed by some shaking of the head indicating an initial ‘No’ response, but ultimately all three headed my way.  Arriving at our seat, Paul reached down to pick up his one very tidy and properly sized carry-on and said to the pregnant woman: “Please Sue, sit here.  My friend and I were just about to roam the concourse in search of something to eat and drink.  Better you get this seat than just leave it up for grabs.”  The woman sat down with a weary smile full of sincere gratitude. Her husband extended his hand to Paul and said to him: “See you both on the flight. It was a pleasure to meet you Mr. Maitlan.”  Paul took his right-hand clasping in a normal handshake then with his left cupped the grip and said: “Jon, this is my business partner Danny.”  I nodded. Paul continued: “Danny please meet Jon and Sue Grabowski.”  Again, I nodded, somewhat dumbly.  Paul continued: “It was my pleasure to have met you two. Such a nice young couple, don’t you think so Dan? A lot like you and Lisa.”  Turning his gaze toward them he continued: “May we bring you back anything?”  Sue smiled and reaching into her purse pulled out ten dollars: “A cold Pepsi would be wonderful.”  Paul’s right hand raised dismissively ignoring the ten and simply said: “Let’s see what our hunting party finds and if we are victorious, we can discuss compensation then.”  With a smile and a turn, we left toward the food court further down the concourse.  Once out of earshot I turned to Paul and asked: “What’s the deal?  I know you’re not hungry, you were reading your paper and enjoying your quiet time.  Why did you give away your seat?  I mean you know we may have to stand for some time until the plane is ready.”  With his left free hand, he patted me on the back and remarked: “I did it because they needed it more than me.  More than us.  She needs it physically and Jon, well he needs it mentally.  Couldn’t you see his worry?  I noticed his constant gaze at the area in the hopes of an empty seat.  They both needed that chair.”

I looked at him quizzically and was about to ask another question as he continued, “Kindness is talked about but seldom handed out these days.  Society has been told that its condescending to be kind to women, that it suggests they ‘need’ assistance.  I don’t see kindness that way.”  Always loving a good debate, I asked: “If it is just being considerate then why not give your seat up to me?” Paul momentarily stopped and with a smirk said…  “I offered remember?” I took Paul’s rebuke and was going to provide a retort but before I could remind him, he never gave me time he continued: “See, just like you, society today wants to find a flaw in another person’s kindness.  They will say: “They did It for show or for some angle”, or they believe it is because he’s a misogynist etc.  Too many today suggest that simple thoughtfulness does not exist and must be driven by some underlying motive like condescension, or worse gain.  Society does that so it doesn’t feel guilty for not doing it.” “So” I smirked and said “You think you are better than all of society?  Wow Paul, humble much?”  First ensuring he and I were in not in any one’s path, he stopped, turned then responded: “I would hope by now you know me better than that, truly.  No one is ‘better than society’ but each of us is different.  We may be different for good or for evil.  For me – well society has become, in my opinion, more isolated and detached.  It is less civil and compassionate.  So, no, I am in no way better, just different.  In some people’s opinion, I am out of step.  I am a relic of the past.  Personally, I blame the 1980’s.” And with that last obscure remark he turned and strode away.  Even though I was quick to follow, when Paul was in his stride his six-foot two gait did put the five-foot 10 inch me at a slight disadvantage.  But I am young and quickly started to catch up.  I spoke loudly so he could hear me over the steady din of the crowd.  “You know this conversation isn’t over.” I know he heard me; I learned early on Paul hears everything and retains an amazing amount of it.  He keeps it close to the vest, but it is there and at the ready should he need it.

Paul stopped turned and asked: “In the mood for a burger, bagel or gyro?”  “Beer” I responded.  He smiled and then repeated: “burger, bagel or gyro – with your beer Sir?”  Paul had traveled for years and knew every main airport and concourse like Lewis and Clark knew the Louisiana Purchase west of the Mississippi.  He already knew my answer to his question: “OK burger and a beer it is” He then directed: “Go around the corner about 50 feet after that on the right. Grab a seat – there is a little-known corner spot behind the furthest post in the bar area. That table is small but good for the two of us if open.”  Taking him at his word I sprinted off to find this ‘special seat’ and damn… it was there. Clean, unattended and in a spot that afforded the one or two people who would sit there in an almost isolated post to enjoy their repast.  Dang the man was good.  I grabbed the table and prepared myself for a wait when in just minutes here comes Paul carrying the food accompanied by an older fella carefully balancing two large sloshing glasses of Guiness.  “I took the liberty of getting what I believe is one of your favorites.  A boursin cheeseburger with bacon, light on the lettuce on a heavily toasted bun accompanied by a stout.  Guiness, your favorite.”  Paul continues with a smile: “My friend Jeremy here was kind enough to bring the drinks and save me a return trip.”  Paul and Jeremy placed the drinks and food, with utensils, on the table Paul turned and briskly shook Jeremy’s hand simultaneously palming him a generous tip.  Jeremy strode off a happy man.

The burger was splendid! I asked: “How did you get such a great burger from here?  It looked like a standard airport bar that provides quick food and drink so people can eat and get the hell out.”  Paul finished what he was chewing, wiped his mouth with the napkin took a small sip of his Guiness and after another wipe of his mouth smiled and said: “I am much older than you and have traveled a lot through the great – and not so great – airports of the country.  I learned that you need to discover who is likely to stay in their positions and sincerely befriend them.  Your interest must be sincere, with genuine and kind words of encouragement, supported by a generous tip.  Most will remember you. Then over time you establish a genuine relationship.  By that I mean you ask about them and remember what they say so the next time when you meet your talk is more connected. As I said genuine.”  His face was saddened a bit as he continued. “Too many travelers forget these people behind the counter.  If they see them at all. After a while those people behind the counter come to feel invisible or worse like an appliance.  When someone notices them, it’s a shock, typically followed by suspicion.  But if you do it with sincerity and do it every time, then they know you see them. Really see them. And Dan, isn’t that what everyone really wants? To be seen and valued.”  I watched his face as he spoke and saw how he truly believed this.  I liked Paul, but at this very moment, I respected him at a level I had reserved for only a very few.  The remainder of our chat was about work.  Our next stop was Pittsburg then home. Finishing our meal, we checked our gates and flights. Still delayed but now with a departure time.  Getting up Paul reminded me of our commitment to get Terri a Pepsi – cold!  So, on our way back to the gate we were on the lookout for either a vendor or vending machine.  I spotted one just down aways and to our right.  We had our Pepsi and were approaching them when I said: “Paul, I think I see two seats about to open over to our left.  You go ahead and I will see if I can snag them.”  He turned his head momentarily to acknowledge he’d heard me then moved toward the couple.  

I was able to get the two adjacent seats in the middle of the second row of airport seats.  The two businessmen were just getting up and I overheard them mentioning food.  I loudly spoke as I approached: “Thanks for the chairs.  Hey! There is a great burger and beer pub just around the corner from the news stand.  I just came from there.  Ask for Jeremy.”  They looked simultaneously confused and pleased. We exchanged seats for information, and everyone was happy.  I placed my bag on Paul’s chair and then glanced in the direction of Terri and Jon.  Paul was still chatting.  “He loves to talk” I thought.  He finished, bent down to hug Terri, and shake Jon’s hand. As he turned, I stood up and waved so he could see me.
Our concourse was typical in layout.  About 6 rows of linked chairs designed to keep you uncomfortable for any extended period.  The rows were spaced with barely enough room to walk and were positioned on each side of the gate.  The gate agent’s desk is somewhat symmetrical to the seats.  Paul was leaving Jon and Terri on the opposite side in the 3^rd row near the end.  I was in the second-row middle seats.  He was just approaching our section navigating the thick crowd that was positioned in front of the gate desk and between the set of opposing seats.  He was working his way through the crowd and almost to our seats when it happened.

Everyone heard a loud laugh followed by: “Woah! If you’re gonna wear that color lady, then bigger shorts or smaller ass” This loud insensitive remark was declared by a young man in a front row seat of our section.  The lady who was the target of the insult was part of the tight standing crowd gathered in front of the seat and by the gate agent desk.  She had her back to the young man.  Like most of the crowd they were standing close to those seated in the front row.  Everyone within earshot heard him and diverted their attention looking directly at her.  A woman of… well of a robust build and wearing bright orange shorts with a pale-yellow top that was truly too tight for her.  With his words still in everyone’s head within earshot, she started to turn.  I was just behind him one seat offset.  To me it happened like a frame by frame stop action films.  With each movement of her turn, I could see a complete sequence.  First her arm moves upward as her head turns to her right to face her critic.  I wondered, “Is she going to slap him?” Now a quarter of the way around her face in better view is a mix of shock and anger.  She moves her feet to complete her turn and as she turns her raises her arm higher and more to her right.  I can see the slap that is coming.  But as she comes face to face with him her face changes again.  It shifts from anger to sadness.  Her arm is still raised as her eyes dart left then right seeing the silent awestruck crowd staring at her.  It all changes so quickly that if my mind had not been in this stop action mode, I would have missed it. Next her face goes from sadness to humiliation.  Her head drops and her arm comes down not to strike but to lie limply at her side as she turns and walks quickly away.  I think I felt like so many around this scene, wanting to do something but what?  I have no clue.  I need support, I need direction.  I’m not sure why but I know I do, and I glance in Paul’s direction.  I knew he wouldn’t be frozen by this tableau like the rest of us.  What I did not expect was for him to head for the young man, the insulter, sitting in front of me. 

The woman was gone. She had moved to the far side of the concourse.  Visible of the gate should the plane board, but away from the crowd.  People started to gather their composure and staring at the young businessman who insulted the woman for no apparent reason.  Paul reaches out his right hand and says in a calm and commanding voice: “You… come with me.  C’mon.”  The young man is mortified by the attention and seems frozen when Paul, more vigorously says: “You need to leave, we need to talk. Please, get up and let’s go.”  He rises from the chair as though lifted and walks away with a stranger’s arm over his shoulder.   This dramatic tableau has me stunned and I ask the two men on either side of me: “Hey, please watch my bags and seats for a minute. Please?”  They are watching my friend walk away with this man, as curious as I am when they say “Yeah Sure” simultaneously.  I hurriedly squeezed my way to the end of the row of seats and worked my way through the crowd.  I can barely see Paul’s tall frame at a Newsstand table.  As I walk toward them, I see Paul leave and get 2 waters.  He is coming back just as I reach them and say: “Dude, what the hell?”  The young man turns to me shocked thinking I am talking to him, but Paul understands its directed to him and says: “Fixing a mistake” and places the 2 waters on the table.  “Drink up fella, it will help.  My name is Paul. Paul Maitlan.  May I ask you for yours?”  Paul untwists the top of a bottle and hands it to the young man with a soft disarming smile. “Please, your name?”  The young man takes the bottle and before sipping meekly with his eyes downward says: “Jason”.  “Well Jason this is Dan, my work partner.  You have a last name?”  “You gonna yell at me, or turn me into someone, some gate agent or something?” Jason sputters as he sips the water. “I was an ass, out of line.” He continues. “I don’t know what happened, why I said that.  I was just reading some work stuff looked up and her butt was right in my face.  Literally a half inch from my face.  Then the next thing I know is I am saying out loud what I was thinking in my head.  It sounded funny in my head, and I never meant to say it, but it came out loud. Oh my god I feel like a jerk.  I didn’t mean to blurt it out.  Now everyone thinks I’m an ass,” His head never came up the entire speech.  Paul moved behind me, around me to go to Jason and stand at his side. Being taller than Jason, he bent down so his head was eye to eye with Jason.  Speaking so gently “Before we get into all that Jason. What is your last name?” “Gilland Sir, Jason Gilland” Still speaking softly with steady but unthreatening eye contact. Paul says: “Pleased to make you acquaintance Mr. Gilland and, you are not an ass.”  Jason was about to speak then stopped. So, Paul continued: “You wouldn’t feel badly if you were. But you are correct, many folks overheard that exchange and right now think you are.  That is because people – all of us – like an end to our stories.  And if they have no definitive end, one that we can clearly see, then we make one up.  We make one or more scenarios of our own eventually settling on what we finally think is the best ending.  Right now, their stories about this incident have her as a funny dressed overweight victim of a stupid insensitive young man in a business suit.”  Jason said nothing but moved his head to better see Paul’s face.  “What you need to do is end the story for them.  Don’t give them a chance to make up an ending.”  Jason stood up a bit, looked at Paul and asked: “and how the heck can I do that?  They hate me.” Paul straightened standing taller as he replied: “Yep, right now they are casting you as the villain, even though most of them think your statement is correct.  She is too heavy to dress like that.  But yeah… you are the villain.”  Turning and looking in the direction of the insulted woman who was at a coffee shop across the concourse: “You sir, need to walk over to her and apologize.”  “What?  You kidding?  She wanted to slap me. Hard! Not sure why she didn’t. I deserved it.”  Putting his hand on Jason’s shoulder, Paul continued: “She didn’t because she is a good person. A sensitive person.  Look. If you have the courage to go to her and apologize there are so many possibilities. You show yourself you have courage based upon strength of character.  If you are sincere in your apology, she may accept it. I think she’ll feel better because when she accepts it displays in her a generous spirit.  So instead of being humiliated she feels strong through kindness.” Paul turns looking at the chattering crowd. “You take their fabricated story and replace it with one you and she can write together.  That will be a story better than anything the crowd could write because its real, it’s true.” Turning and looking at the crowd, then at the woman, Jason looks worried. “What if she doesn’t accept my apology?” “Possible” Paul replies: “But still your story is one of courage and repentance. Look, I am not sure I am right here, but this ending, either ending, is better for you.  If she accepts then it’s better for her, and, if you two are seen talking civilly, better for all those who were fabricating a storyline that likely had a negative ending and reinforced their already sad view of our world.”  Jason chuckled: “You make this sound like some big deal.” “It is Jason.  It really is” Paul directly looked at both of us now and with what I called Paul’s ‘Mentor Face’ and said: “Everyday people are bombarded with negative news from too often real negative events.  The noble, the good, is often overlooked because the good in life is quiet and affirming, versus the bad which is shocking and disruptive.  But sometimes, there are moments like this where we haven’t decided yet how the story ends.  If it ends as we imagine – badly – it just adds to our list.  But that expectation is like a showcase, if something good happens it’s unexpected.  Surprisingly unexpected and so it warms us, inspires us even if only for the moment.”  “Jason, you have a chance to do something right to correct what you did wrong.  To make that woman feel better and make yourself feel and become better.”

Paul reaches out, touching Jason’s shoulder. “Now, go write the end of the story. Or stay here sulk and decide to let them write it. I support you either way.  But I see in your eyes and heart a good person.  Let everyone else know that.”  Then with a small shove he directs Jason to walk toward the woman.

As he walks away, I am both stunned and impressed by the exchange I have just heard and witnessed.  I can’t take my eyes off Jason as he walks cautiously toward her.  At one point I see him stop and I say aloud to Paul: “He’s gonna cave.” “Nope” Paul’s responds with a voice filled with assurance. “He is just reaching into himself and pulling out something he hasn’t used in a while, his self-respect.  He will find it and he’ll get there.”  As if on cue I can see Jason stand straighter and start again.  The woman sees him, and I can see her apprehension.  I see a few others watching and nudging their friends.  This area of the concourse becomes weirdly quiet except for one small child’s chatter.  As Jason reaches her everyone is still and focused on the tableau. We can’t hear what he says, but Jason’s body conveys repentance, his face softened as he talks to this lady, he had only moments earlier humiliated.  His head previously bowed a bit is now raised and he looks directly into her eyes.  We can see he says something then puts out his hand.  She straightens and smiles and while we cannot hear, we can tell she says thank you and takes his hand.  I expected all of us to applaud but instead the previous din returns, as though time stopped has now resumed.  I turned to Paul.  “Nicely done my friend.”  He smiles and finishes his bottled water.  We head back to our saved seats and moments later we are on the flight home to Pittsburgh.  Paul, as usual, falls asleep immediately as I read a magazine.

The next day I regale the office with Paul’s exploits.  The new people are impressed, but those who know him take it in stride. “That’s our Paul” is the standard comment.  At lunch I bring it up and he tries to shut it down.  I persist.  “Why don’t you want to talk about it?  You did a good thing.”  Paul looks up from the menu.  “Doing a good thing should not be the exception that gets attention. I think I’ll have a chicken wrap today.”  Paul can see I am not about to let this go and raises his hand to stop me before I start. “Dan, there are so many good people out there doing good daily.  The fathers, mothers, siblings, friends, all doing things that they do daily for those for whom they care. It goes unnoticed – but it really isn’t.  We see it subconsciously every moment of the day.  And for some reason, if it is gone, it leaves an emptiness in us.  We notice its absence. I see people as mostly, predominantly good and kind.”

Paul pauses, looking around the room then directly at me: “Dan, you know I love sailing.  It evokes in me a sense of what life is like, of what people can be in life.  I see some people as boat anchors.  And I don’t mean that derogatorily.  I see them as seldom drawing attention and often just sitting on the deck. But when you need them, when the current is rough or the wind too strong, they enter the water, find a secure hold, and help you maintain your position as the currents and winds try to capsize you.  They hold you fast and steady even in the worst storms. They remain unseen down below but holding on and not letting go. 
I see others as the sails and rudders, working with you to actively help you capture the capricious and changing winds and currents so you can control your movement in the tumultuous sea and get to your destination.  Finally, I see those who stand firmly on shore, providing everyone with constant point of reference in the day and reliable light in gloom or darkness.  They are the lighthouses!  We seldom if ever interact with them but we see them and they by their color and profile in the day and their beacon at night constantly providing anyone who needs, a solid reference point.  A point that we know we can trust to show the path to safe harbor.”  He continued: “Some people may always and only be passengers, but it is incumbent upon those of use who are anchor, sail, rudder or lighthouse, to always be ready and present to support them in anyway we can.  And sometimes, that support directs them to become that for others. Now, let’s eat.  We have that new opportunity at 2pm.”

I arrived moments late today.  Opening the doors into the church I saw so many of you inside.  All here for Paul.  I recalled that airport story as though it was yesterday instead of 24 years ago.  I tossed aside my planned eulogy as I entered this crowded church.  I told it to you, and for myself, because it reminded me of Paul, and how likely many of you remember him. It expressed the essence of who he was to each of us here today, in this church – a filled church. I see so many of you in your pews wondering – as Paul would say - how this story ends.  Perhaps some of you are trying to develop an ending in your mind that makes sense of him being gone from our lives.  Where does the story go now that we are without our anchor, sail, rudder, lighthouse or perhaps to some – like me – a combination of the three?   I think if Paul were here, he would say: ‘My story has ended.  I hope you got something out of it.  Something you can now put into your story.’  He would give us that look, like a beacon on a gloomy night and say: “Now it is up to you to think about how you want your story to unfold.”   He would want us to be good people.  Paul always called himself ‘an average guy’, although he hardly ever dressed like one.  He avoided fanfare and praise and I suspect he would be frowning at this eulogy, frowning at me for giving it and elevating him.  But if he were here, I would respond by telling him he’s right.  No one ever makes a fuss over an anchor or gets excited about a rudder or sail.  But people, even those who don’t venture into the water look at lighthouses.  To everyone they are examples of guidance.  Paul was and will always be a lighthouse.  Sorry Paul, that is just how we see you.

As I left the podium to sit as the service ended, I could see that no one crying or sad.  Instead almost all were smiling.  Were they putting this as a chapter into their story?  Paul would have liked that.