Mayapur, India
Gene from Ohio
“Hello!” said the
caller.
“Hello!”
“I wanted to speak to
the Walking Monk.”
“Yes, that’s me.” I had noticed the origin of the place where
the call came from. It was Ohio. I was surprised. I’m here in India.
“This is Gene. I met you on your walk. I’m the car salesman. Remember?
It was raining. I called you into my shop in
Ohio. I told you I know someone from
Ontario, like yourself. He’s from Wawa–a friend of mine. Lives here now. You met him.”
Of course, I remember. And Wawa?
Well that is a notorious place for hitchhikers in Canada. In the sixties and seventies the word was,
“Don’t get dropped off in that place.
You’ll never get out”
“Gene, it’s a
pleasure.”
“I wanted to know how
you’re doing? I can send you a
donation,” said Gene.
Gene was one of those
happy-go-lucky guys, generous as anything. He
told me he was willing to give me the shirt off his back. Literally.
He was serious, especially when he saw me all wet. His kind is rare. He melted my heart.
When he understood he had called India, he was
conscientious. “I won’t hold you up too
long. It gets expensive.”
He’s melting my heart
once again.
Of all the people and places…. I was flabbergasted that
someone would go out of their way as he did. I
recall he appeared to me as a cross between
Burl Ives and the sun–a jolly fellow. I
think he’s a saint. I’ll follow up when
I get back home.
May the Source be with
you!
3 km
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