I missed him, and I wasn’t sure I would see him again.  But I knew if he was still alive, he would find me somehow, or at least I hoped he would, because I didn’t know enough about him yet to write his book.  He chose me to write it, but how was I supposed to do it if I knew next to nothing about him?  His words seemed to cycle back to my consciousness every few days: “Your T-shirt that said: careful or you’ll end up in my novel, may in fact, bring you a huge pile of good luck, because if you write that book based on my life, and you do it well, you will be rewarded with a best-seller.”

I was feeling that this task he assigned to me, almost as if was matter-of-fact and a done deal, was nothing but a massive weight on my shoulders that seemed an impossible task, especially if I was to write it as a memoir, because I knew nothing about this mysterious old guy with Einstein hair.. And yet, it seemed it would be inappropriate to write it as pure fiction, unless somehow, I could make it historical fiction, but he gave me no history to chew on.  And then I remembered he said, “each minute we receive, is a gift.”  I needed to start using those gifted minutes in a productive way.

So, I went to the beach bar he used to frequent, hoping he would some day show up, but each day I went, there was no Ollie.  I brought my composition book and began writing, but each page was not good enough, so I tore it out, filled the wastebasket, started over and ordered another beer.

And then, suddenly he appeared, looking over my shoulder at the bar.

“Hey Carson, I see your pages are blank.  But I am sure you’ll figure it out soon enough.”

“Oh, hi Ollie!  Good to see you.  Where have you been, or, damn, I guess that was a dumb question.”

“Not so dumb Carson, just unanswerable really.  I was in a good place, as you can tell by my tan.  It’s time to come with me now.”

Ollie took my arm, with a strong grip, and led me away from the bar, and of course, there was a shadow man outside the bar, again, reading a newspaper as we walked out.

He had a car waiting and we got in.  Ollie wasn’t wearing his usual sandals and beach shorts, but instead, was wearing pressed slacks, shined shoes and a long sleeve dress shirt.  I thought that was quite unusual, so I went ahead and asked the question, that I figured would not get a straight answer, as we drove away.  “So where are we going Ollie?”

“Church, my son.” Well, I finally got a straight answer.

He took me to the small church about five miles from the beach bar and we sat down in the first row of pews in the sanctuary that sat about 150.  And, as expected, the shadow man sat way in the back.  The parishioners looked at us, well, actually Ollie, and nodded silently as they sang hymns from their hymnals with yellowed pages looking at him in their peripheral vision, as if he was a ghost come to life. I also heard some hushed whispers that must’ve been directed at Ollie as we walked down to get our seats.  Were they all familiar with him as a parishioner, or, was it more than that? But as I looked around, discretely, of course, I noticed that Ollie was the best dressed there: The others wore shorts or jeans, and sometimes even sandals. He seemed to read my mind, as he had before, and whispered to me, “I was always brought up to look my best in church, but I never judge those who do not agree with me on that matter.  They are here, that is the main thing.”  I was pleasantly surprised by Ollie taking me to church, basically because it was not what I expected, but yet, not entirely surprising to me.  You see, his previous words he decided to share with me seemed not only to be filled with wisdom and humor, but a hint of spirituality.

The preacher led us in prayer and then he asked the audience, “Does anyone have a favorite bible verse they want to share with us, before I start my sermon?” I thought that was a little unusual, but maybe that is usual practice in this church.   No one answered, then, for some reason, he looked down at a very well-dressed Ollie, whose hair was certainly not well-dressed at all, and said, “Ollie, do you have a verse to contribute?”

Ollie smiled, rubbed his chin for a few moments, then smiled and then stood up and faced the sanctuary: “You know, there have been times in my life, that I did not think I would make it, and the odds were against me, my back against the wall, and I thought evil just might win.  But when that feeling came, I fought it with this verse, and I received strength from the father immediately.  The verse is Ephesians 6, 10-18:

Finally. be strong in the Lord and his almighty power. Put on the full armor of God so you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the power of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.

Therefore, put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. Stand firm then, with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace.

In addition, to all this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit which is the word of God.  And pray in the spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests.  With this in mind, be alert, and always keep praying for the saints.

Ollie sat down, played with his hair a little and looked at the preacher, who appeared dumbfounded with silent joy.  The sanctuary was as if a vacuum had sucked all the air from lungs —people did not seem to need to breathe in the silent power of his words.

The preacher opened his notes at the lectern and his text for the sermon, stared at his words, then, after a minute closed his book and said, “We will not be having a sermon today.  I think this is enough to ponder, chew on, and take home with you forever.  Thanks Ollie.”

We left the sanctuary, got back in the car and the driver took us back to the bar where Ollie decided to find me. No words were spoken in the car.  Just, a silent reverence for goodness in the life we are blessed with.  I now understood that Ollie was the definition of Sui Generis.

Ollie then said, “goodbye Carson.  No beer for me today, on Sunday.  We will meet again for beer.”

And then, he was off.

It was then I understood, that Ollie was providing me with a best-seller, if I would only be patient and listen.

© SRCarson Publications. 2022