Mason

Dear Universe,

Holy nuts, you work in mysterious and interesting ways. Last night you sent a ferociously drunk guy to my front door who proceeded to stand there on the steps and talk in circles about his night. "Are you gonna' turn me away too?" he said. "Well...yeah, because it's 2 in the morning and you're freaking me out." "Yeah, I thought so." "Okay yeah, so I'm gonna' shut the door now." which I did. And locked it. When he continued to stare into the front window, my roommate and I called the cops. I guess in retaliation he decided to bust a window and book it. Thankfully, he got apprehended. My buddy and I are rattled, but okay.

Today, another guy comes to the door. I had to admit, I was a little wary at first. He sported long hair, a massive healthy beard (his Russian ancestry, I later find out) and glasses. Initially, he came to inquire about a friend's car, which has been sitting in our driveway out back. The chat about the car turns into several hours of us sitting on the front stoop and talking about life.

I find out that Mason was in jail in northern Idaho for five years on an aggravated assault charge (someone had broken into his house, and threatened him with a knife. He chased the guy out, and when the police arrived they tazed Mason and took him to jail.) While he was incarcerated, he was cut off from his entire world. The pain medication he was taking from a sawmill accident that landed him in a coma was cut off with little explanation. Friends of his that tried to visit were turned away or told he wasn't there. He barely received any mail that was sent his way (and when he did, it was postmarked three weeks prior and blacked out, like he was a political prisoner.) No television. No books. The best he could do was purchase a subscription to the Spokesman Review--the only thing that kept him sane. The city had brushed him under the rug, his trial date kept getting pushed further and further back--with very little hope for justice.

(I forgot to mention that the break-in that spiraled into his jail time came not 24 hours after he was released from the hospital to recover from a car accident that seriously injured him and took the life of one of his dogs.)

In any event, Mason told me about the five years he served. He told me about how his 6(!!) siblings have passed away, some from natural causes, one from suicide, and one from police brutality. He told me about how he worked as a machinist, fixed cars and motorcycles, bred dogs and horses, and has a degree in large mammal dentistry. He told me about his grandparents, still going strong into their 90s. He told me about growing up in Birmingham Alabama in the 70s. He told me about his incredible ups and devastating downs. He told me that the same day he considered just giving up on it all, he received a letter from his daughter that completely turned everything around for him. After chatting a while, he parted with a firm handshake and some very kind words.

So, Universe, I guess I'm trying to say I'm grateful. I'm grateful that the day after some Ridiculous Bullshit(tm) pops through, you allowed my path to cross with someone who is an example of absolute and incredible resilience. Resilience in the face of impossible odds and staggering unfairness. A person who was given the rawest of deals, who's struggling still, but has not and will not give up.

Thanks for the lesson. If we meet again, I'm buying him a beer.

Love you all!

Dakotah