Many of the men in attendance have made this a part of their Christmas tradition for many years. As a matter of note, Richard Matters had repeatedly invited me for many years, but it was after his death that his son KJ ask that I attend with him.
This was in part due to his dad’s absence. Out of respect and honor to Richard I began attending with KJ. Richard was a great friend.
It was this year, however, that I became aware of the convergence of people who at some point had been influential in my own journey.
On the third morning the speaker was introduced as always. There are many things that can trigger memories for me; smells, songs, sounds, and others, but sometimes I can read a name and never make a connection. That particular morning the audible sound of a name brought not only a flood of memories but formed such a force that I was drawn into a realm of memory convergence.
The name that triggered this episode was Robert Allen. Mr. Allen as it turns out, was my fourth-grade teacher at the now long-gone Intermediate School Campus.
As I began to scan around the crowd, I became aware of many others present. Lewis Cole was there. I may be wrong on his title at the time, but Mr. Cole was what I assumed to be the Human Resources Manager at La-Z-Boy in 1976.
Lewis hired me and scolded me in the same conversation. He gave me a job that I was applying for and scolded me for dropping out of college, insisting that college was where I should have been. Lewis, if you are reading this, I did return to college, but pursued study in a different area. Surprising is the fact that skills I acquired at La-Z-Boy have been used during the last twenty years.
Moving around the room I notice Bud Powell. We attend church with Bud and his wife Sharon, but my first introduction to Bud Powell was the same year as my introduction to Robert Allen. Bud was the physical education instructor at Intermediate School the year that Mr. Allen was my teacher.
Sitting in front of me was Mike West. Mike’s family and our crew were all involved in the baseball program during the late 1980’s and early 1990’s. Three seats to my left sat John Kissel. my next-door neighbor in 1979 and 1980. I was flanked by Mike Eads and my grandson Troy, and so the gambit ran across the entire spectrum of my life. There were more there, but the room was populated with people whose paths had intersected mine. Some had deflected my path, bending the trajectory of my journey.
I had crossed the event horizon and been drawn into the convergence!
(Paul Richardson's column, The Horse I Rode In On is published weekly in the Neosho Daily News, Seneca News-Dispatch, Aurora Advertiser and on the Turner Report.)
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