The dark clouds confirm for me that I’m correct, and that it is a certified melancholy day and I’m waiting for the feeling of redemption tomorrow, on Easter, but today, well, I don’t want to be alone, so I went back to the beach bar.  After all, no one knows where Ollie is now, and this is the only place where I’ve seen him before, outside of Nashville or at church or that fateful day at the beach where he wore that silly shirt.  Some nice cold Guiness would do me good too.  No use getting my hopes up, because well, Ollie comes when Ollie wants to show himself, for whatever reason.

As soon as I sat down, the bartender recognized me, smiled, and sent me a large mug of Guinness without even asking.  I figured it was no use ordering anything else anyway, because it seemed that might upset the whole world order, or maybe since there is no world order anymore, make the polar ice caps melt, as the climate change fanatics swore would happen 20 years ago.  It’s best that I just drink and relax and keep things on an even keel.  A few patrons looked at me briefly when they recognized me as that guy who knew the old man, nodded their heads, then went back to drinking, laughing and playing pool or darts.  You see, without Ollie, I was just another guy, or perhaps, another aspiring writer who hasn’t yet made it, who latched on to this mysterious old man, hoping to cash in on his secrets.

Maybe that’s half true. I latched on to him because we connected naturally on the beach, but truth be told, he latched on to me just as hard, and to find out why, you’ll have to ask him, I guess.  After all, he is the one who chose me to write his intimidating book that may in fact, be an impossible task.

The bartender gave me another Guiness after I quaffed the other one down with the alacrity of a seal catching a sardine thrown to him at Sea World.  But next to the new mug was an envelope with the name “Carson” on the front, and nothing else.

“Ollie figured you’d be here, so he wanted me to give this to you.”

Carson, I hope you are well. I think you may be feeling a little down today and frankly, I always feel downcast on the Saturday before easter when we remember Jesus in his tomb.  Maybe you feel this too, I don’t know. If so, I can’t erase that feeling, no one can, but hopefully that Guiness will help a little. My arthritis is acting up and my old hip injury is yelling at me, but hey, you know, at least I’m still alive at my age.

I took some time and read a few of your blogs recently after I returned from a wasted visit to the Washington swamp. I wanted to see if you are still active tickling the keyboard, and I am now more convinced than ever that my choice for you to write my biography, or my story, or whatever the hell you want to call it was potentially a good idea for an old man. I want to mention three of your pieces that touched my soul and reminded me of certain events of my life: “I Have Lived a Good Life”, “I Can’t Go On, I Will Go On”, and “2022 and Heroes.”

It struck me that we are similar in some ways: we have both suffered and lost much, but we both have given of ourselves to save or help other’s lives, clearly though in remarkably different ways. We both have made tremendous mistakes, and I am not sure which of us made the most stupid ones.  What I can’t get rid of are all the vivid images during flashbacks, of colleagues and men who served under me who I lost so violently, and yet, I was always chosen to survive, somehow.  I ask myself why, and I realize that this can only be answered by the father above.  I have also lost the woman I loved, and no one could ever take her place over the years.  I have never told anyone this but you, now, because I trust you. Nevertheless, there are times when I want to give up on this life and go to the father, because the world is spiraling downwards and my body and mind are not what they used to be to combat evil. And then, something deep inside my soul remembers his message, and I realize there remains more that the father wants me to do here.

Carson, you need to know that although I am alone, I am not lonely because he is with me, and he is my shepherd that I serve willingly, until my last breath, but you Carson, are the only one I have in this world who remains, even though we keep our distance, due to circumstances.

So, Carson, you are much younger than I am, but I don’t want you to give up either, and please realize that you need to do more for this world and others, as you are with your gifts and blessings.

Now, get back to your beer, have a steak, dance with the girls and realize that I have already paid the bartender for your evening.  Also, I paid for a cab if you drank too much.

Tomorrow is Easter, and I am bringing a car to pick you up for church.  You will not say no.

Ollie

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