A Stop on the Way

A Stop On The Way

The heat of month of June bore down on Harry Wilson, as he got out of his beat up 76 Ford and walked up the hill on Rosewood Lane to meet his next prospective customer, doing his best to remain positive about it in spite of the sweat pouring down his back.

Shaking his head as he paused in his walk, to reposition his briefcase,Harry recalled a conversation that he had with his grandfather one week l before he left for college. 

He met with him that day at the old house and found him sitting in the darkened dining room ,smoking his pipe while staring wide eyed out the window while slowly shaking his head. Harry sat down in the chair opposite him and hung his own head down and heaved a sigh. He knew his grandfather's viewpoint and nothing was going to change that, but he would have to endure the rant that was sure to come.

The old man started the conversation by enquiring about Harry's plans and his major which was music at which point the old man laughed with a snort.

"No one cares about your major or music. You'll never make money at it. You'll just wind up being a teacher because you can't do anything else and the college? Well they won't care. Job placement is a joke there. They'll only do the bare minimum and then they kick you out the door!"

"You gotta remember that to them, you're just a number and you'll never be any more than that no matter how good or bad your grades are. They get paid and as long as the money comes in, they will keep 'teaching'". From that point, he fell silent and looked out the window, smoking his pipe and continued to shake his head as he gazed.

5 years later Harry returned home after changing his major twice,.his grandfather did not speak to him much, but he had that "I told you so" smile on his lined and white bearded face every time he saw him.

So, Harry had turned to being a door to door salesman for a small company and just as his grandfather had told him, this company too only cared about the money, so Harry worked as hard as he could to make a sale.

Harry made it to the top of the hill and found the house of his next prospect, Mr. Jonathan Barrett, CPA.  Harry sighed again shaking his head again as he approached the one story ranch house and knocked on the door, halfway expecting a man dressed in pinstripes and a bow tie to answer the door.

"Mr. Wilson, I presume", came a voice from the side of the house. Harry turned to the left and saw a short haired older gentleman in a yellow golf shirt. The man smiled at Harry and motioned Harry to follow him to the back yard.

" You are Mr. Barret, sir?"

"Yes sir, that's me. Come on over to the deck and we'll have some ice cold lemonade on this hot day. You look like you need it."

"Actually,.yes I am, thank you so much." 

The ice cubes clinked against the pitcher as he poured the liquid into plastic tumbler and sat down in a lawn chair beside the table.

"So, Harry, I hear you have some products you would like me to see ,so I will be happy to take a look at what you got."

"Yes sir," Harry said as he opened his case and found the brochure and mentally prepared his pitch. 

Mr. Barrett took the brochure and held it in his hand and flipped through it.

"Just let me take a look at everything first,. though. I like to see things with my own eyes. Then I'll hear your pitch."

Harry watched as the man read over the material and smiled a bit thinking that at least he got someone to read the brochure. That's better than most of the attempts he had all week.

"Okay, Harry, let's hear your pitch", Mr. Barrett said after taking a sip from his cup. 

Harry began his pitch as he had been instructed at the company, talking of the features and benefits of the product itself and how it could help to simplify his life, at which point, Mr.. Barrett stopped him with a small motion with his hand

"Harry, do you really want to sell me this product?'

Harry's jaw dropped at the question. He scratched his head and his brow furrowed.

"Ummm…Sir?"

"Look, Harry, " the man said as he shifted in the lawn chair and breathed our long sigh and smiled 

"I have to tell you something. I knew your mom before she passed. I did her taxes for her every year and I had a pretty good impression of her and what she was about."

"Yes sir," Harry responded trying to adopt a neutral posture.

"You, Harry are a maverick"

Harry stared at him as he leaned forward.

"A maverick? "

"Right. Like many artists, musicians and others,.you experience this world differently than the rest of us and you have a great need for self expression. What you are doing now is basically denying that need and it has hurt you."

Harry looked down at the ground not even noticing as his briefcase fell from his grasp.

" I was.told..." Harry began.

The man sighed. "I can tell what you were told. I know your granddad too. He has lived a good life but it was filled with the regrets of unfulfilled dreams. Do you you really want that? "

" Yes, you have to make money and there are lots of ways of doing it.  But you would be doing a disservice to yourself and the world by pretending to be something that you're not. Be the maverick that you were born to be. Don't forget it. You got this."

Harry looked up at the man again and noticed the smile on his face and noticed the flushed feeling on his face.and the salty taste of tears that had fallen amidst the sweat.

"Thank you,.sir...."

"Harry, you're very welcome"

******"***

A week later, Harry learned that Mr. Bennett has passed away in his sleep after having been in a coma for a month. 

Harry made it a point to go by his grave once every year and he continued to study music in between various jobs.