Synchronicity is something you experience in life, and might often just write it off as coincidence. But, when things happen so often, and seem to defy the odds entirely, it's hard to write things off to chance. For instance, on Friday of last week I was sitting downtown when a woman I hadn't seen in over a year was walking. She said, "Hey Gabe! How are you doing?"
I was not in a very jovial mood, I gotta admit. My father recently told me that my biggest problem in life was that I wasn't very good at tolerating bullsh*t. I, in total agreement, said with a HA, "You just hit the nail on the head Pops".
Then, she asked, "Where are you working", and that's what was making me blue.
Being stuck on the streets in a college town for twelve years, and having worked several jobs that don't pay enough to provide a standard of living, I had just walked out on another one due to some major bullsh*t. My background is primarily Advertising. I'm not quite sure if I jumped out of the corporate nest, or if I was pushed. It doesn't matter, because I landed on the streets on my feet, rather than in the grave. The only problem is once you hit the streets, there are only two ways to get off: by success, or by death.
Wages are ridiculously low for even someone just trying to pay the rent. If you have additional responsibilities, it is additionally ridiculous. And, what it takes to eat, and keep clean, only makes matters worse. Someone with a home, can shower, eat, and even do a load of clothes in an hour. It takes six hours to do the same thing for someone on the street because of all the running around; which is really walking around because these legs can't run anymore. It's hard enough just to stand up!
Anyway, this is where I landed, and this is where I remain, long enough to see the synchronicity seemingly grow stronger by the day. I was working at a local restaurant for a short time. Yes, I faced some unnecessary bullsh*t and after working four nights in a row until 2am, I was already exhausted. When I arrived for my fifth shift in a row, it was a morning shift. Going on two to three hours of sleep for four nights in a row will tend to wear you out. This fifth shift was tough to make, and I was in no mood for BS.
I'm a street person. I don't have the luxury of sleeping in all day after working until 2am, and it's not like you just go to sleep at 2am. You have to unwind. I remember one morning falling asleep around 4am, and then another at 5am. Yet, I have to be up by at least seven a.m. or risk being discovered and possibly barred from a location. It wouldn't be the first time. My entire arrest record is centered around this issue, but ends up being called Criminal Trespassing because I return to a spot that works when I was told not to. It's not easy to find good spots to sleep. So, you try as best you can to stay out of sight, and get out of sight, before the beginning of the business day. Unless, you're going downtown to the square to sit there until you find the next job that won't pay the rent either.
That's where I was when this woman I know named Shannon, walked by and stopped to talk for a minute. She asked where I was working. I told her what happened. "They tried to kill me", I said.
"You mean, they were overworking you", she tried to understand.
"No. I mean literally", I clarified. "Actually, they tried to get me to kill myself".
"What do you mean", she inquired.
"Well, someone stole my bag. There's been a rash of thefts from street people lately. I know at least five people who have had their bags stolen".
The woman nods with understanding as I'm saying this.
"Why someone wants to steal a street person's bag, I don't know. The best they're going to get is a phone charger, and maybe some dirty socks that need to be washed. I think they should be shot".
"That's a little harsh, don't you think Gabe", she checked...
"Not really. Go steal from Donald Trump instead", I responded.
She just kind of laughed.
"Anyway, my uniform was in my bag. I showed up for work just to show them I wasn't lying, instead of calling in, you know?"
"Yeah...", she awaited further explanation.
"I told them what happened. They understood. They agreed to get me an Uber and send me to Wal*Mart for some new clothes. Just what I wanted to spend my money on AGAIN". But, I thought that was pretty cool. We hadn't been there for ten minutes, when out of the back came one of the trainers in town to get the place set up calling me to the back saying he needed someone taller than him. I've been trained on most all the stations, but I don't know everything. There are vents above the fryers. Three were missing and needed to be installed. I had never done that before. So, I asked, "How do you do it"
I'm wearing shorts and flip flops. He says, "Just jump up there".
There's about a six inch wide work space in the front. I didn't think anything of it. So, I took of the flip flops and jumped right up there. I asked him what I was supposed to do next. He said to just put them in with some vague instruction as to how. So, I leaned across to the back of the fryer to check my balance before stepping across. The damned thing was hot!"
"What", she exclaimed horror with her question.
"Yeah! Can you believe that? He never said a word about it being hot. Not even a 'Be careful'. That's just plain evil. He's the trainer, right?"
"Not only is it evil. It's probably illegal", she added
"Well, I should have thought about it myself, you know? But, he's the trainer, and I never worked in a kitchen before. We hadn't been there ten minutes. That grease apparently doesn't steam, or boil. It just sits still and friendly looking"
"Oh my God", she understood why I had walked away.
"Oh, that's not all. I actually stuck around another two weeks, until a series of other things happened, and then after working those four nights in a row, I just wasn't in the mood for any other crapola".
She was actually standing there with her jaw dropped.
"I said the good news is I got to do Rabbit Box a couple of nights ago and NPR was in town. Turns out they broadcast it on WUGA. They had a Story Slam. I didn't win, but I did good and I had a good time. They put names in a bag and drew them out. Ten people got to go up. I was number nine. And, I got to draw the last name. I drew the name of a woman I had done this with last October when Irma blew through. Turns out, she won the whole thing and gets to go to New York to perform there!"
"That's great", she concurred.
"Oh, by the way, they said something was going on the rest of the month. Robin, the woman who won, told me about something..."
"Wait a minute... Yeah, Story Corp! They're also affiliated with NPR. You go on their website to sign up for a slot", she informed me.
"Are you doing it", I asked.
"Yes. Yes, I am. It's at the library, the regional library for the next thirty days", she confirmed
"Thanks Shannon! I couldn't remember what they guy said the other night because I was going over my spiel in my head and I just didn't process it".
"Oh, I know. Whenever I do public speaking I go into another zone before I go up", she concurred. "You take care Gabe. I gotta get going", and off she went.
"Will do", I said, as she left.
So, I picked up the phone and got through to one of the call center representatives who booked me for one of the last two slots. The synchronicity of things left ignored, are just neat little moments, otherwise seized, may result in something of significance.
The next day was Saturday. As I walked uptown from breakfast, I noticed they were setting up a stage at the end of Washington St. I wondered what was going on, but didn't ask. I proceeded up the block and went to the square in the heart of town and worked on a Sudoku puzzle until about noon. By then, I was ready for a beer. So, I made my way over to Fuzzy's where I sat down and continued working on my puzzle when after I had nearly finished a second beer, I heard a voice saying "Hey Gabe". It was Shannon again, only now she had three kids, her husband, and her mom with her.
I said hello, and then they went outside to get their table on the patio. I cleaned up in the bathroom after finishing my beer and then went outside to speak further. After meeting everyone, I told them what happened at the Foundry the other night, and how I got to tell the story about Scandalous Grits!
Scandalous Grits
By the end of it, she only had one word to say and that was, "Interesting".
She asked, "Are you going to Latinxfest".
"Is that what's going on down there? I wondered, but I'm all about that", having always had an affinity for the Latino community.
She confirmed it was, and said, "I'm going down there right now", which I did.
I didn't stay long, but enjoyed some traditional dances, la musica, and even a Latin Reggae Rapper, yo?
The rest of the day went by rather uneventfully, which is fine by me.
Don't Want No Drama Ma... T
The next day was Sunday, of course. As I made my way to the computer lab, I pass a play ground where there are usually families out with their kids playing. I was passing by when I heard a familiar voice call out, "Hey Gabe". It was Shannon and her family AGAIN.
I can't see faces very well, but I immediately said, "Hey", in return. She said, "It's Shannon! I swear we're not following you".
"Oh My God", I said.
"What does it mean", she asked, kiddingly .
That's the thing about it. When things happen hyper coincidentally, I call it synchronicity. I just pointed to the sky and said, "It means there is a God".
She said, "I know", and that was that.
Bewildered, and shaking my head, I waved goodbye and proceeded to my destination where I spent the rest of the afternoon in peace at the keyboard.
...
The next week began and I went to my usual spot downtown when I don't have anything else to do. I left the spot where I was sitting and headed to the Sparrows Nest. It was a Wednesday, the last day of the week to take advantage of the clothes closet. The overnight temperature was to drop to fifty degrees which meant I needed an extra layer of clothing. It was too early to get a winter jacket because by the next afternoon it will be 80 degrees and that just means having to carry around an extra piece of clothing. You don't need to get the jacket until it's consistently cold enough to wear it through the season.
As I was heading that way, I saw a figure heading in my direction. I recognized her hair, and thought it was Robin, the woman who won the story slam; whose name I had drawn out of the bag. As I got closer, she waved, and then I knew it was her. I stopped and then I remembered it was her that had originally told me about Story Corps. I told her I had just spoken to Shannon and she had also mentioned it. Synchronicity.
We parted, and I continued on my path to the Nest. I got there and found the perfect sweater and even a hat that basically matched. I tell you, I might be a street person, but I dress well, thanks to the donations made by the community. I guess that makes me a bigger fake than the president, but if nothing else, when you do a tour of duty on the streets, maintain your dignity. There are those who refuse to bathe. I can't go there. In fact, my hygiene is probably better now, than it was when I lived in a house in a swim and tennis community. There aren't any skid marks in my underwear, but I haven't had those since I was a child anyway. It's a conscious effort to avoid such things.
I got the sweater and then spent the next couple of hours there grooming and drinking coffee, and talking with Boo-Boo, my food angel, I call him. When I first hit the streets, it was him that pointed me in the direction of all the food resources, and beyond.
Coincidentally, I wanted something wholesome to eat. Athens is a food desert in terms of wholesome nutritious food. If you're on foot, there's only one place to go and that's the Daily Food Coo-op where they take food stamps. I have a balance remaining on my card. So, I started that way which is about a ten minute walk. As, I approached the co-op, there she was again, two hours later, Robin, the winner of the story slam! She was on the phone, but I wanted to get her number because all this synchronicity is going on and she's part of it. "Can I have your phone number please", I asked quietly so as not to interrupt her conversation too much.
"Hold on Mom", she said, "Do you have it", she asked.
"No, I don't have it, but I'm ready. I think you probably know more about what's going on than I do. So, I wanted to keep in touch".
I later sent her a message saying that if she knew about anything that I might be doing to further this public speaking thing, please let me know. She responded affirmatively, and that was that. I don't have regular access to the Internet. My SEMI-SMART PHONE allows Internet access, but it's kind of a pain to use and the only thing you can really access is Facebook. Any websites I've ever tried to visit always get rejected saying that they're too large to download.
I'm kind of glad about. Since losing my smart phone, I spend considerably less time online, therefore less time on Facebook. It can become an addiction and to walk away from it will leave you with a sense of relief, unless you already addicted. Then, you might actually freak out.
That was that.
I then proceeded to the computer lab to check in.
...
Backing up for a moment, the Ms. Sorority Row contest is held at UGA each year in November. It was in 2016, after listening to all the crapola of the presidential election that I finally decided who I was going to vote for... Or, more properly "for whom I was going to vote", but don't ask me to use proper mechanics. I write the way I speak. I had to work the night of the 2016 contest, but it was still morning and it was time for breakfast. I made my way to the 1st Baptist Church, home of the Our Daily Bread Community Kitchen.
I got my plate and sat down at an unoccupied table, when another fella joined me. Just to make conversation, I made the announcement to him that I had finally decided who it was I was going to vote for. He just looked at me like, ok, go ahead... And, I said, "After much thought and consideration I've decided I'm voting for none other than Dolly Parton! Dolly 2020, When We See Clearly!!
He chuckled, and then he said, "You might not believe this, but I was a radio station manager in Pigeon Forge and we had Dolly in the studio one time. Most people don't know this, but she was awarded an honorary degree from Carson-Newman university for her work in philanthropy through her Imagination Library. They send out millions of books to children in hopes of ending illiteracy, or minimizing it.
I'm just sitting there looking dumbfounded at this point. He must have seen the look on my face and then said, "I can show you my credentials". I said, "No man, no. Anybody who can say something like that up on the fly has to be telling the truth". He insisted on showing me his ID, and another piece of identification showing his media credentials. We sat there and finished breakfast, and parted with a handshake.
I then went to the computer lab to confirm what he said, and sure enough, he wasn't making anything up.
Wow, Synchronicity!
So, the day went by and it was time to go to work. The sun had set and I was at the gate talking to the kid working it, telling him about this whole thing. He's a student at UGA, so probably twenty, or so. I asked him if he knew who Dolly Parton is. To my surprise, he said yes. His parents listened to Dolly while he was growing up, so he knew exactly who she was. You never know these days. So, I asked. As I finished telling him about the whole breakfast experience, I told him I had made my decision as to who I was voting for and it was Dolly Parton!!!
He kinda smiled, but didn't laugh. He just agreed, and said, "Yeah man. I can dig it!".
Immediately, as he concurred, you could hear a voice from the stage inside begin to sing "Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene". We both just looked at each other in amazement! This kid just said, "It must mean something Gabe". I just lit a cigarette, looking at him and shaking my head as I walked away to walk it off basically. I made my way to the office, signed into Facebook, where suddenly at the top of the list on my Timeline was notice for none other than Dolly Parton's Imagination Library...
Just a strange coincidence, right?
...
Well, that was then, and this is now nearly two years later. Just two days ago, I was doing my computer time once again. If I'm lucky, I get a couple of hours a day. Sometimes more, but I can hardly take it unless I'm writing. I can't even stand watching news reports anymore. Not that they're fake to me. It's just the Barf Show and not worth my time, or frustration. I can't control it, but I can refuse to watch it. That's what I do.
So, one of my favorite Baristas in the world worked at Starbucks. Both have now moved on to bigger and better things. One reported to me for her community service when she got in trouble once. That's why I started going in there again. That's where I also met Little Miss America, a five foot tall firecracker who after hearing her speak and laugh out loud, she served me a cup of coffee for the first time. I told her then, I said, "I don't know what your major is, but it oughta be Theatre".
To which, with mucho gusto, she said, "IT IS".
"You'll be on Broadway one day", I said.
She just smiled with gratitude, a coy look, but appreciative.
So, we befriended each other on Facebook, as I have many young women, and even some young men from UGA I have had the pleasure of meeting and even bonded with over the years. There's a certain energy that you can sense kindred spirits and it may take years to recognize that it is an extra sensory perception, of sorts, for lack of a better term.
I have followed the careers of several, what are now, UGA alumni. But, just the day before yesterday Little Miss America posted a picture of her walking down 44th St. in New York City toward the Shubert Theatre. Half a block ahead of her, you could see the sign, and what was she going to see???
What else, but, "Hello Dolly", starring Bernadette Peters. Now, Dolly Parton is a household name, so young people know that name more than they know Bernadette Peters, but if you ask a twenty something if they've ever seen the movie The Jerk, many of them have. And, then you just explain that's Navin's wife, and then they know exactly who Bernadette is.
Hello Dolly? Are you kidding me? And, Little Miss America, and Bernadette Peters???
All I can say to that is:
Dolly 2020
When We See Clearly
If that's not enough already, I finished my computer session and walked downtown where it wasn't five minutes later and before I could even take a seat, I'm standing there looking down toward North Campus where the Starbucks is, as a matter of fact, when a young woman comes walking up the street wearing a white t-shirt with these words printed on the front:
Dolly Parton Vibes
I stopped her briefly, and said, "This might not make a lot of sense to you, but I have one thing to say, "Dolly 2020, When We See Clearly". She just said, "Yeah", and proceeded along her way.
I sat down next to a friend of mine and asked him if he saw the t-shirt. He said, "no". So, I told him this story you just read.
Synchronicity
Dolly 2020! When We See Clearly!
I was not in a very jovial mood, I gotta admit. My father recently told me that my biggest problem in life was that I wasn't very good at tolerating bullsh*t. I, in total agreement, said with a HA, "You just hit the nail on the head Pops".
Then, she asked, "Where are you working", and that's what was making me blue.
Being stuck on the streets in a college town for twelve years, and having worked several jobs that don't pay enough to provide a standard of living, I had just walked out on another one due to some major bullsh*t. My background is primarily Advertising. I'm not quite sure if I jumped out of the corporate nest, or if I was pushed. It doesn't matter, because I landed on the streets on my feet, rather than in the grave. The only problem is once you hit the streets, there are only two ways to get off: by success, or by death.
Wages are ridiculously low for even someone just trying to pay the rent. If you have additional responsibilities, it is additionally ridiculous. And, what it takes to eat, and keep clean, only makes matters worse. Someone with a home, can shower, eat, and even do a load of clothes in an hour. It takes six hours to do the same thing for someone on the street because of all the running around; which is really walking around because these legs can't run anymore. It's hard enough just to stand up!
Anyway, this is where I landed, and this is where I remain, long enough to see the synchronicity seemingly grow stronger by the day. I was working at a local restaurant for a short time. Yes, I faced some unnecessary bullsh*t and after working four nights in a row until 2am, I was already exhausted. When I arrived for my fifth shift in a row, it was a morning shift. Going on two to three hours of sleep for four nights in a row will tend to wear you out. This fifth shift was tough to make, and I was in no mood for BS.
I'm a street person. I don't have the luxury of sleeping in all day after working until 2am, and it's not like you just go to sleep at 2am. You have to unwind. I remember one morning falling asleep around 4am, and then another at 5am. Yet, I have to be up by at least seven a.m. or risk being discovered and possibly barred from a location. It wouldn't be the first time. My entire arrest record is centered around this issue, but ends up being called Criminal Trespassing because I return to a spot that works when I was told not to. It's not easy to find good spots to sleep. So, you try as best you can to stay out of sight, and get out of sight, before the beginning of the business day. Unless, you're going downtown to the square to sit there until you find the next job that won't pay the rent either.
That's where I was when this woman I know named Shannon, walked by and stopped to talk for a minute. She asked where I was working. I told her what happened. "They tried to kill me", I said.
"You mean, they were overworking you", she tried to understand.
"No. I mean literally", I clarified. "Actually, they tried to get me to kill myself".
"What do you mean", she inquired.
"Well, someone stole my bag. There's been a rash of thefts from street people lately. I know at least five people who have had their bags stolen".
The woman nods with understanding as I'm saying this.
"Why someone wants to steal a street person's bag, I don't know. The best they're going to get is a phone charger, and maybe some dirty socks that need to be washed. I think they should be shot".
"That's a little harsh, don't you think Gabe", she checked...
"Not really. Go steal from Donald Trump instead", I responded.
She just kind of laughed.
"Anyway, my uniform was in my bag. I showed up for work just to show them I wasn't lying, instead of calling in, you know?"
"Yeah...", she awaited further explanation.
"I told them what happened. They understood. They agreed to get me an Uber and send me to Wal*Mart for some new clothes. Just what I wanted to spend my money on AGAIN". But, I thought that was pretty cool. We hadn't been there for ten minutes, when out of the back came one of the trainers in town to get the place set up calling me to the back saying he needed someone taller than him. I've been trained on most all the stations, but I don't know everything. There are vents above the fryers. Three were missing and needed to be installed. I had never done that before. So, I asked, "How do you do it"
I'm wearing shorts and flip flops. He says, "Just jump up there".
There's about a six inch wide work space in the front. I didn't think anything of it. So, I took of the flip flops and jumped right up there. I asked him what I was supposed to do next. He said to just put them in with some vague instruction as to how. So, I leaned across to the back of the fryer to check my balance before stepping across. The damned thing was hot!"
"What", she exclaimed horror with her question.
"Yeah! Can you believe that? He never said a word about it being hot. Not even a 'Be careful'. That's just plain evil. He's the trainer, right?"
"Not only is it evil. It's probably illegal", she added
"Well, I should have thought about it myself, you know? But, he's the trainer, and I never worked in a kitchen before. We hadn't been there ten minutes. That grease apparently doesn't steam, or boil. It just sits still and friendly looking"
"Oh my God", she understood why I had walked away.
"Oh, that's not all. I actually stuck around another two weeks, until a series of other things happened, and then after working those four nights in a row, I just wasn't in the mood for any other crapola".
She was actually standing there with her jaw dropped.
"I said the good news is I got to do Rabbit Box a couple of nights ago and NPR was in town. Turns out they broadcast it on WUGA. They had a Story Slam. I didn't win, but I did good and I had a good time. They put names in a bag and drew them out. Ten people got to go up. I was number nine. And, I got to draw the last name. I drew the name of a woman I had done this with last October when Irma blew through. Turns out, she won the whole thing and gets to go to New York to perform there!"
"That's great", she concurred.
"Oh, by the way, they said something was going on the rest of the month. Robin, the woman who won, told me about something..."
"Wait a minute... Yeah, Story Corp! They're also affiliated with NPR. You go on their website to sign up for a slot", she informed me.
"Are you doing it", I asked.
"Yes. Yes, I am. It's at the library, the regional library for the next thirty days", she confirmed
"Thanks Shannon! I couldn't remember what they guy said the other night because I was going over my spiel in my head and I just didn't process it".
"Oh, I know. Whenever I do public speaking I go into another zone before I go up", she concurred. "You take care Gabe. I gotta get going", and off she went.
"Will do", I said, as she left.
So, I picked up the phone and got through to one of the call center representatives who booked me for one of the last two slots. The synchronicity of things left ignored, are just neat little moments, otherwise seized, may result in something of significance.
The next day was Saturday. As I walked uptown from breakfast, I noticed they were setting up a stage at the end of Washington St. I wondered what was going on, but didn't ask. I proceeded up the block and went to the square in the heart of town and worked on a Sudoku puzzle until about noon. By then, I was ready for a beer. So, I made my way over to Fuzzy's where I sat down and continued working on my puzzle when after I had nearly finished a second beer, I heard a voice saying "Hey Gabe". It was Shannon again, only now she had three kids, her husband, and her mom with her.
I said hello, and then they went outside to get their table on the patio. I cleaned up in the bathroom after finishing my beer and then went outside to speak further. After meeting everyone, I told them what happened at the Foundry the other night, and how I got to tell the story about Scandalous Grits!
Scandalous Grits
By the end of it, she only had one word to say and that was, "Interesting".
She asked, "Are you going to Latinxfest".
"Is that what's going on down there? I wondered, but I'm all about that", having always had an affinity for the Latino community.
She confirmed it was, and said, "I'm going down there right now", which I did.
I didn't stay long, but enjoyed some traditional dances, la musica, and even a Latin Reggae Rapper, yo?
The rest of the day went by rather uneventfully, which is fine by me.
Don't Want No Drama Ma... T
The next day was Sunday, of course. As I made my way to the computer lab, I pass a play ground where there are usually families out with their kids playing. I was passing by when I heard a familiar voice call out, "Hey Gabe". It was Shannon and her family AGAIN.
I can't see faces very well, but I immediately said, "Hey", in return. She said, "It's Shannon! I swear we're not following you".
"Oh My God", I said.
"What does it mean", she asked, kiddingly .
That's the thing about it. When things happen hyper coincidentally, I call it synchronicity. I just pointed to the sky and said, "It means there is a God".
She said, "I know", and that was that.
Bewildered, and shaking my head, I waved goodbye and proceeded to my destination where I spent the rest of the afternoon in peace at the keyboard.
...
The next week began and I went to my usual spot downtown when I don't have anything else to do. I left the spot where I was sitting and headed to the Sparrows Nest. It was a Wednesday, the last day of the week to take advantage of the clothes closet. The overnight temperature was to drop to fifty degrees which meant I needed an extra layer of clothing. It was too early to get a winter jacket because by the next afternoon it will be 80 degrees and that just means having to carry around an extra piece of clothing. You don't need to get the jacket until it's consistently cold enough to wear it through the season.
As I was heading that way, I saw a figure heading in my direction. I recognized her hair, and thought it was Robin, the woman who won the story slam; whose name I had drawn out of the bag. As I got closer, she waved, and then I knew it was her. I stopped and then I remembered it was her that had originally told me about Story Corps. I told her I had just spoken to Shannon and she had also mentioned it. Synchronicity.
We parted, and I continued on my path to the Nest. I got there and found the perfect sweater and even a hat that basically matched. I tell you, I might be a street person, but I dress well, thanks to the donations made by the community. I guess that makes me a bigger fake than the president, but if nothing else, when you do a tour of duty on the streets, maintain your dignity. There are those who refuse to bathe. I can't go there. In fact, my hygiene is probably better now, than it was when I lived in a house in a swim and tennis community. There aren't any skid marks in my underwear, but I haven't had those since I was a child anyway. It's a conscious effort to avoid such things.
I got the sweater and then spent the next couple of hours there grooming and drinking coffee, and talking with Boo-Boo, my food angel, I call him. When I first hit the streets, it was him that pointed me in the direction of all the food resources, and beyond.
Coincidentally, I wanted something wholesome to eat. Athens is a food desert in terms of wholesome nutritious food. If you're on foot, there's only one place to go and that's the Daily Food Coo-op where they take food stamps. I have a balance remaining on my card. So, I started that way which is about a ten minute walk. As, I approached the co-op, there she was again, two hours later, Robin, the winner of the story slam! She was on the phone, but I wanted to get her number because all this synchronicity is going on and she's part of it. "Can I have your phone number please", I asked quietly so as not to interrupt her conversation too much.
"Hold on Mom", she said, "Do you have it", she asked.
"No, I don't have it, but I'm ready. I think you probably know more about what's going on than I do. So, I wanted to keep in touch".
I later sent her a message saying that if she knew about anything that I might be doing to further this public speaking thing, please let me know. She responded affirmatively, and that was that. I don't have regular access to the Internet. My SEMI-SMART PHONE allows Internet access, but it's kind of a pain to use and the only thing you can really access is Facebook. Any websites I've ever tried to visit always get rejected saying that they're too large to download.
I'm kind of glad about. Since losing my smart phone, I spend considerably less time online, therefore less time on Facebook. It can become an addiction and to walk away from it will leave you with a sense of relief, unless you already addicted. Then, you might actually freak out.
That was that.
I then proceeded to the computer lab to check in.
...
Backing up for a moment, the Ms. Sorority Row contest is held at UGA each year in November. It was in 2016, after listening to all the crapola of the presidential election that I finally decided who I was going to vote for... Or, more properly "for whom I was going to vote", but don't ask me to use proper mechanics. I write the way I speak. I had to work the night of the 2016 contest, but it was still morning and it was time for breakfast. I made my way to the 1st Baptist Church, home of the Our Daily Bread Community Kitchen.
I got my plate and sat down at an unoccupied table, when another fella joined me. Just to make conversation, I made the announcement to him that I had finally decided who it was I was going to vote for. He just looked at me like, ok, go ahead... And, I said, "After much thought and consideration I've decided I'm voting for none other than Dolly Parton! Dolly 2020, When We See Clearly!!
He chuckled, and then he said, "You might not believe this, but I was a radio station manager in Pigeon Forge and we had Dolly in the studio one time. Most people don't know this, but she was awarded an honorary degree from Carson-Newman university for her work in philanthropy through her Imagination Library. They send out millions of books to children in hopes of ending illiteracy, or minimizing it.
I'm just sitting there looking dumbfounded at this point. He must have seen the look on my face and then said, "I can show you my credentials". I said, "No man, no. Anybody who can say something like that up on the fly has to be telling the truth". He insisted on showing me his ID, and another piece of identification showing his media credentials. We sat there and finished breakfast, and parted with a handshake.
I then went to the computer lab to confirm what he said, and sure enough, he wasn't making anything up.
Wow, Synchronicity!
So, the day went by and it was time to go to work. The sun had set and I was at the gate talking to the kid working it, telling him about this whole thing. He's a student at UGA, so probably twenty, or so. I asked him if he knew who Dolly Parton is. To my surprise, he said yes. His parents listened to Dolly while he was growing up, so he knew exactly who she was. You never know these days. So, I asked. As I finished telling him about the whole breakfast experience, I told him I had made my decision as to who I was voting for and it was Dolly Parton!!!
He kinda smiled, but didn't laugh. He just agreed, and said, "Yeah man. I can dig it!".
Immediately, as he concurred, you could hear a voice from the stage inside begin to sing "Jolene, Jolene, Jolene, Jolene". We both just looked at each other in amazement! This kid just said, "It must mean something Gabe". I just lit a cigarette, looking at him and shaking my head as I walked away to walk it off basically. I made my way to the office, signed into Facebook, where suddenly at the top of the list on my Timeline was notice for none other than Dolly Parton's Imagination Library...
Just a strange coincidence, right?
...
Well, that was then, and this is now nearly two years later. Just two days ago, I was doing my computer time once again. If I'm lucky, I get a couple of hours a day. Sometimes more, but I can hardly take it unless I'm writing. I can't even stand watching news reports anymore. Not that they're fake to me. It's just the Barf Show and not worth my time, or frustration. I can't control it, but I can refuse to watch it. That's what I do.
So, one of my favorite Baristas in the world worked at Starbucks. Both have now moved on to bigger and better things. One reported to me for her community service when she got in trouble once. That's why I started going in there again. That's where I also met Little Miss America, a five foot tall firecracker who after hearing her speak and laugh out loud, she served me a cup of coffee for the first time. I told her then, I said, "I don't know what your major is, but it oughta be Theatre".
To which, with mucho gusto, she said, "IT IS".
"You'll be on Broadway one day", I said.
She just smiled with gratitude, a coy look, but appreciative.
So, we befriended each other on Facebook, as I have many young women, and even some young men from UGA I have had the pleasure of meeting and even bonded with over the years. There's a certain energy that you can sense kindred spirits and it may take years to recognize that it is an extra sensory perception, of sorts, for lack of a better term.
I have followed the careers of several, what are now, UGA alumni. But, just the day before yesterday Little Miss America posted a picture of her walking down 44th St. in New York City toward the Shubert Theatre. Half a block ahead of her, you could see the sign, and what was she going to see???
What else, but, "Hello Dolly", starring Bernadette Peters. Now, Dolly Parton is a household name, so young people know that name more than they know Bernadette Peters, but if you ask a twenty something if they've ever seen the movie The Jerk, many of them have. And, then you just explain that's Navin's wife, and then they know exactly who Bernadette is.
Hello Dolly? Are you kidding me? And, Little Miss America, and Bernadette Peters???
All I can say to that is:
Dolly 2020
When We See Clearly
If that's not enough already, I finished my computer session and walked downtown where it wasn't five minutes later and before I could even take a seat, I'm standing there looking down toward North Campus where the Starbucks is, as a matter of fact, when a young woman comes walking up the street wearing a white t-shirt with these words printed on the front:
Dolly Parton Vibes
I stopped her briefly, and said, "This might not make a lot of sense to you, but I have one thing to say, "Dolly 2020, When We See Clearly". She just said, "Yeah", and proceeded along her way.
I sat down next to a friend of mine and asked him if he saw the t-shirt. He said, "no". So, I told him this story you just read.
Synchronicity
Dolly 2020! When We See Clearly!
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