[at-l] an odd little story

Tue Feb 5 18:19:59 CST 2008

Felix, 

I think you are a warm, kind and unselfish individual. Not to mention interesting as all hell. 

I hope eArThworm reads this. She'll like this story. 

Sincerely,
Marsha

----------------------------------------
> Date: Tue, 5 Feb 2008 17:16:24 -0500
> From: athiker at smithville.net
> To: at-l at backcountry.net
> Subject: [at-l] an odd little story
> 
> Here is an odd little story that I'll share with you...though, I'm not 
> really sure why...other than it's an odd little story:
> 
> Several years ago I met a girl at a now-defunct Bloomington-area ski 
> slope. She was a student at IU who was nice enough to show me and a 
> friend a few of the basics of snowboarding. She spent several hours with 
> us showing us things that I am certain kept me from killing myself. Way 
> above and beyond the call of being nice to an old man.
> 
> In the time we spent together, I found out that she was from Falls 
> Village, CT...a trailtown on the AT.  When I told her I'd hiked the AT, 
> there was a sort of kinship there: she was from a trailtown...I'd been 
> to her trailtown. What more do you need?
> 
> After graduating from IU, she moved to Los Angeles for a couple of years 
> and worked for a company that sells elite-type cars.  About a year ago, 
> however, she moved back to Falls Village and started working in and with 
> various local programs and with town government, etc. 
> 
> Our relationship was fairly simple: we'd send each other a couple of 
> e-mails every 9 or 10 months checking in...and, one or two on birthdays. 
> Nothing wrong with that.
> 
> A couple of weeks ago I realized that I'd be driving through Falls 
> Village one afternoon after I was done with my section-hike in 
> Massachusetts.  So, late the night before I was to leave ( for a stop at 
> the Ruck, in PA), I sent her an e-mail telling her I'd be coming through 
> her town and asked her to call or text if she wanted to do lunch.  The 
> e-mail came back.
> 
> I thought that was odd. So, I did a quick search of her name. The first 
> link listed on the Google 'results' page said, in big letters, "In 
> Memoriam..."  So, I had this big, sinking feeling in my chest, ya know? 
> And, just sort of stared for a moment or two before I clicked the link 
> and read the story about how she'd lost her six-month battle with cancer 
> and died around Thanksgiving last summer.  I thought "Twenty-six is too 
> young to die". 
> 
> So, I wrote the person who'd written the article I read and explained my 
> situation and relationship with her. Since I was traveling through the 
> area, I still wanted to stop and pay my 'respects' to her. So, I asked 
> the author if he could e-mail or text me any info that might help me 
> find the cemetery where she was buried. I assumed, since it was so late 
> in the evening and I was leaving early the next morning, that I wouldn't 
> hear from him before I left.
> 
> I was wrong. He wrote back in fairly short order with an e-mail address 
> and phone number for the town clerk of Falls Village and said that she 
> has all the information.  I e-mailed her, again explaining my 
> relationship with the deceased and my desire to stop as I passed through 
> town.  I told her that I may call her sometime the first of the week 
> (the week of January 28th) to find out information on the cemetery, etc.
> 
> After my hike in Massachusetts, I headed south on Route 7, which passes 
> at the edge of Falls Village. As I neared town, I was playing that 'do I 
> stop/do I keep going' game in my head. There were just as many reasons 
> to do one as there was the other. Who was I to stop anyway?  A guy she'd 
> been nice to once 4 or 5 years earlier? Does he have a right, a need, a 
> reason to stop at a cemetery?
> 
> As it turns out, I stopped. I thought I'd drive through town once and if 
> I found the town hall, I'd go in. As I drove down one of the few streets 
> in town, I saw a building with a flag. I assumed, correctly, that it was 
> town hall. I parked and walked in.
> 
> There was a woman standing at a desk talking on the phone. She looked at 
> me and said "Are you Felix?". "Hmmmm," I thought with a bit of a chuckle 
> to myself.  "Yeah," I said. She told me to sit down at a vacant desk  
> and dial this number and ask for Lou. Lou, she told me, had taken the 
> day off to meet me. 
> 
> So, what was happening was exactly what I didn't want to happen. I 
> didn't want people doing things out of their way for me. I didn't want 
> anything but to stop at a cemetery, look at a tombstone with some 
> letters and numbers on it and think "Sometimes bad things happen to good 
> people" and then shake my head as I walked back to my truck, a sadness 
> in my heart. 
> 
> I sat at a desk and called Lou. A woman's voice told me that Lou wasn't 
> there. I asked if I was talking to "Mrs. Lou" and was told, by a very 
> pleasant girl, that I was talking to Lou's daughter. I told her that 
> Mary had asked me to call and told her the story about how I knew her 
> sister.  We had a conversation that went on longer than I wanted. It was 
> pleasant, but I'd said all I had to say. And, what could she have to 
> say?   The one thing she did tell me was that her sister had been 
> cremated. So, there would be no staring blankly at a tombstone. 
> 
> So, we hung up. As I did, a distinguished-looking older man came to the 
> desk next to the one where I sat. Mary asked me to tell him who I was 
> and why I was there. "Who AM I?" I thought. So, I told him 'my story', 
> which is really no story at all. He looked at me with an expression that 
> said "That's it?" And, I thought, "I KNOW!!"  I really wanted out of 
> there, and thought it was about to come to be.
> 
> As I was telling Mary thanks for her help, the phone rang. It was Lou's 
> daughter telling Mary something. I still don't know what she said or 
> why. But, their conversation ended with Mary telling me that the family 
> wanted me to come by there house and the Lou's daughter was going to try 
> to find Lou.  Mary took a town map and drew directions on it for me.
> 
> I knocked on the door, several times. I smiled as cats started to appear 
> in the foyer to see who the knocker was. I think there were 6 cats there 
> before Lou finally showed up.  He invited me in and we...me, Lou and his 
> daughter...sat and talked for a couple of hours. Fortunately, the 
> conversation moved around a lot and focused very little on the reason I 
> was there.
> 
> We shook hands and said our goodbyes. I was invited back anytime I'm in 
> the area. He thanked me for stopping...and, I could tell he meant.
> 
> I'm sure there are a couple of morals to this story.  I think one of 
> them is to never under-estimate how simply something nice can be 
> done...and, how much it can mean to someone.
> 
> 
> -- 
> Felix J. McGillicuddy
> ME-->GA '98
> "Your Move"
> ALT '03 KT '03
> http://Felixhikes.tripod.com/
> 
> 
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