Fate and Coincidences

If there’s one thing I’ve learned in life, it only takes only one small twist of fate to change your future. But in the story, I’m about to tell you, there were countless. It started on January 1974. My name is Howard and I had just turned nineteen years old. I was six-feet one-inch tall, one-hundred-sixty-fives pounds, and being an excellent bicyclist, I had the body of an athlete.

Yes, I was physically fit, but inevitably, I bore an invisible flaw. Since I could remember, I had been blind in my right eye. Years ago, the doctors determined my retina was scarred from an infection, and the damage it caused was permanent. At that time, I didn’t really care. Even as I went on with my life, I rarely gave it much thought.

Now, having the body of Superman, the looks of Brad Pitt, and the intelligence of Einstein (Maybe I’m getting little carried away), you’d think I had the world at my feet, but you’d be wrong. You see, when it came to schoolwork, I was lazy. I shuffled my way through high school and shortly after I started college, I dropped out. Afterwards, I moved to South Carolina, thinking I would spend the rest of my life there, but it wasn’t meant to be. Something was missing in my life, but I couldn’t place my finger on what it was. Eventually, returned to New York and continued to ponder on what I wanted to do with my life.  So, there I was, unemployed, and had no solid plans for my future. As fortune would have it, I wasn’t alone in my boat. Norman, who was my best friend since middle school, was in there with me.

It was one afternoon, while we were drinking beers and shooting pool, when Norman said off the top of his head, “I have an idea, Howard. Why don’t we join the Coast Guard? That way, we can make some money and gain experience at the same time. I also heard they have a buddy plan where friends can go to boot camp together.”

I knew the country was fresh out of the Vietnam war and the draft was history, but still the possibility of returning to war was a dark thought in the back of my mind. But the Coast Guard should be different, I thought. All they do is protect U.S. coastal waters. Not seeing a downside to it, I whole hardily agree to his plan and later that week, we found ourselves driving to Syracuse to visit the recruiter.

As you can imagine, the recruiter was overjoyed to see us walk through his front door. After a few quick questions, he had us taking an entrance exam and scheduled us for a physical later that week. It wasn’t long after that, we were back in his office. “Gentlemen,” he began. “I have good news and bad news. The good news is Norman qualifies in joining the Coast Guard. The bad news, Howard, you don’t. Though you had the highest score I’ve seen on an entrance exam, we’re unable to let you sign up. You see, the vision in your right eye doesn’t meet the standards required for you to enlist in the Coast Guard. I went to my commander and begged him to see if we could get you in under a waiver, but I’m afraid that wasn’t possible. I’m sorry.”

Sorry, he said. Can you believe it? For my whole life, I dealt with my disability and never once found it debilitating. Now, some regulation buried in a pile of other regulations says I’m incapable of doing something, without even letting me get a chance to prove them wrong. Even so, I knew my chances of convincing the Coast Guard to change its mind was zero. It was time for me to let it go.

Just as we were about to walk out the door, the recruiter spoke out. “You know, Howard, the Army’s physical standards are less than ours. If you wish to join up with them, you should have no problem getting in.”

 So, it was settled. Norman was going to join the Coast Guard and I was going to join the Army. In fact, the Army recruiter promised I would be a tank driver stationed at Fort Carson Colorado. At that moment, our fates were sealed, or so I thought.

A few days later, Norman and I were driving back home. As we were cruising down the snow-covered road, I leaned my head back against the head rest and closed my eyes. As I laid there in comfort, I heard Norman shout out, “Look out!”

Yeah, right, I mumbled to myself. The next thing I knew, I was waking up in the hospital. The agonizing pain I felt in my back and my swollen eye informed me I wasn’t in Kansas anymore, and making matters worse, the sheet that was covering me, was my only safeguard from being stark naked.

For the next three days, I laid there in my embarrassment and learned what happened. As Norman was driving down the road, he hit a patch of ice and lost control of his car. Sliding across the road in front of an oncoming vehicle, he slammed on the brakes and barely missed it. Unfortunately, he couldn’t avoid the tree on the other side of the road. Considering he struck the tree at fifty miles per hour, I was lucky I wasn’t hurt worse. Norman only suffered a few cuts and bruises, but as for me, I had a concussion, compressed fracture in my back and a severely black eye to top it all off. Though my injuries were minor, they were about to change the direction in my life.

It wasn’t long after being released from the hospital, when I returned to Syracuse for my final physical, and when it was completed, I was told my results were not pleasing. When the doctors examined my black eye, and rediscovered I was blind in one eye, they told me I was not fit to drive a tank. There for, all the promises of going to Fort Carson, to do so, were eradicated.

When the recruiter heard this, he gave me words of encouragement. “Maybe you can’t drive a tank, but maybe you can do something else. How about being a generator mechanic?”

Generator mechanic, I thought. Does that mean the Army does more than shoot guns and drive tanks?

“What the catch?” I asked.

The recruiter’s tone was flat. “There’s no guarantee where you’ll be assigned.”

Now, I was left with two choices. Either join the Army and be a generator mechanic or go home jobless, with no future. So, I turned to the recruiter and asked, “Where do I sign?”

And that was it. I headed to Fort Jackson for Basic Training and later to Fort Belvoir to learn how to fix a generator. September rolled around, I completed my training and was ready to receive my PCS orders. Our First Sergeant came out and read our names off the list. When the tally came in, all those who were not guaranteed an assignment, were ordered to go to Germany. Everyone, that is, except for me. I was ordered to go to South Korea.

The morning I arrived in Yong San, I was taken to the reception station and waited for further orders to where I was being stationed. There must have been fifty of us mulling around in the waiting room. As we waited like sheep for the slaughter, I had a chance to observe unit insignias hanging on the walls.

One of my fellow sheep bleated, “Those insignias are the emblems of all the units stationed here.”

As I looked at the insignias, one in particular caught my eye. The patch was shaped like a bullet facing downwards and inside it was an image of a missile with a lightning bolt passing through it. Above the patch was a tab, and in it was the words, 4th Missile.

Before long, in-processing began, and I quickly dismissed the insignia from my mind, but by the end of the day, it became a part of my life. While most of the wandering sheep were assigned to 2nd Infantry Division at Camp Casey, I was assigned to the 4th Missile Command at Camp Page. I thought the odds of this happening to me was incredible, but I was soon to learn fate wasn’t done with me yet.

About a month after arriving in Camp Page, I decided I wanted to further my education, so I went to visit the education center. Strangely, as soon as I walked through the door, the Director of Education rushed up to me and introduced himself. After we had a brief discussion, he asked, “it’s a strange coincidence you came in just now. Five minutes ago, an employee of mine quit. How would you like a job? I run a class, just outside the gate, teaching English conversation. Would you like to teach that class for me?”

It was the last thing I expected to hear. Had I been a bar hopping, girl chasing type person, I would have said no. But I wasn’t. Instead, I mostly stayed on post and had little to occupy my time off, so I agreed to teach for him. If you think fate was done with me, think again.

The next night was the first time I went to the classroom. As I climbed the stairs, I began to wonder. What will it be like, trying to teach anything to anybody? I’ve never done anything like this before. What will they think of me? Before I could answer my own questions, I found myself opening the classroom door.

As I did, I was greeted by a class of six people, waiting patiently for me to arrive. Most of them were a little older than me, both male and female. But there was one young woman that caught my eye. I had to force myself not to stare at her. If was as if I was gazing at an angel. She was about my age, slender and very attractive. To me, perfect.

My heart began to race, for I never felt such an attraction before. Yes, there were other women in my life, but none of those relationships felt as powerful as this one. She looked at me with her beautiful almond eyes and smiled. From that moment on, I was hooked.

I laugh at those who say love at first sight doesn’t exist, for I know better. It’s been over forty-five years when we first met and as of today, we are happily married. Somedays, I look at the past and try to count how many coincidences and acts of fate intervened, taking me halfway around the world to meet my true love and every day I count, the number is never the same. I figure the odds for my life to turn out as it did are close, if not beyond the odds of winning a jackpot in a national lottery and the way I see it, I’ve won more than the greatest payout of one.