Griffin is an interesting fellow. I met him one evening at a local Burgerville, where people come to eat fast and leave fast. It’s been a long time since I met Griffin. He doesn’t leave my mind for more than a couple months at a time.
He is the real deal; A collector of good things.
He talks about strange things and has an odd admiration for names. He likes my daughters name. She is the first Aurora he has met in his journey. A week before he met me, he met a family of four girls. Their names were intriguingly attractive: Precious, Beautiful, Secret, and Madeline.
Griffin has his own story. He drove Public Transportation buses for thirty-five years, says he met over a quarter million of people. He stated his feelings toward his career in this way, “When you meet that many people you become more of a skeptic, and find less joy in the annoyance of people.” I don’t know though, I like people. I mean I like people a lot. They are all different and most of them are extraordinary to me. I told him how much I love people and he replied, “I’ve always been into cars.” Cars are cool too, though I’ve never been a car gal.
He is a writer. He writes stories about the people he meets. Every week on Tuesday evenings he drives his wife to her religious group. She is a Jehovah’s Witness. He sits in the Burgerville for thirty minutes waiting on her, until he ventures across the street to another local food joint. He has met a lot of people in his life.
I think he thinks about God. I wish he knew God. Shoot, maybe he does know God. I only met him once. He writes novels and I think that’s pretty cool. I think it’s strange that he collects names, but I also think it’s different, and I like different. I wish more people were okay with standing out in a crowd. He is the cough in a silent room, and the skeptic in a concert hall full of enthusiasts. He has a son who is 31-years-old, and he is a writer too. His son helped him create a website and he asked me if I had one, too. Well, I do. It’s in the works and eventually I think it will get done. I miss my friend Aeryk, when I think about it. He was going to help me create my website. I wish I had spent more time with him before he passed. I told Griffin about Aeryk, and he sighed a rather strange sigh. I like Griffin. He didn’t have a whole lot to say, and I think that is good. There are no words to say, really. It’s nice to pass over the subject and continue conversing. It’s not that I was blown off, I was actually blown away by his attentive listening. It’s nice to be around someone who enjoys listening as much as they enjoy speaking.
He really likes names. like a lot. He asked my name and then repeated it back to me a few times. Then he asked my mom’s name. He says he has only met one other woman named Sherry who was as kind as her. I know he overheard the conversation I was having with my mother before he introduced himself. He didn’t act like it though, and he also didn’t act like he didn’t hear it. He was just genuinely interested in us instead of our conversation. He gave me a napkin with his son’s name on it, at the bottom he wrote the name of his son’s book, Journey of Rise. I still need to read it.
When he said his goodbyes and went on his way across the street, I felt rather sad. I am astonished at his motivation to follow through with his course of plans. He spent his thirty minutes with us, just as he said he would, and then left when those short minutes were up. I could have followed him out but I chose not to. The sadness crept in when I realized I may never see him again. I’ll never know when he dies, or how he dies, or if anyone is with him when he dies. It was like parting ways with a lost grandfather.
I wish I had known him better. I wish our time together wasn’t as quick as a shadow passing by. His life is important. He is important to me. I wish I could have continued talking with him for eternity. Conversations are cut too short in the same way that life is cut too short.
I like Griffin. I like a lot of people for a lot of reasons. Griffin likes people too even though he won’t admit it. He likes people a lot.