Greastest Man I Ever Met

After passing the Army Basic Training course and the Advanced Individual Training course, I was sent off to my first duty station. My family had consequently sold my car when I was in basic, citing the reason as “you weren’t using it”.

So, I found myself in need of a car again. I knew when I bought this old stick-shift Honda Accord that it was a project car. I figured that it would be a learning opportunity for me to hone in on my southern engineering skills. For those who don't know this is a trait where a person is known to improvise a quick solution to a problem, that actually works long term. So, when the car’s AC began not blowing cold air on a particularly hot day in Georgia. I stuffed my head under the hood and sought out the problem.

Eventually I found myself at an auto parts store talking to the guys behind the desk. Now perhaps my manners are on account of working customer service at a few jobs, or maybe it’s because my mother and her siblings found ways to literally beat the concept into my subconscious. But people generally respond well when they first meet me, and I'm able to pull out information they wouldn't usually offer. After describing the issue to the men, they provided a solution that sent me home with a can of freon feeling pretty good about the prospect of fixing this issue.

When I woke up the next morning, I was a bit deflated when I found the solution ended up being temporary. That evening I went back to the store and bought two more cans of freon. I used one entire can in order to diagnose the problem. That is when I found a hole in one of the lines that transfers the freon from the radiator.

I stared really, really hard at the hole, willing it to close itself. When that didn’t work, I went back to the store and talked to the guys. Lo and behold they handed me my favorite DIY tool in the world, tape in the form of aluminum able to withstand extreme heat!

When I got back to the barracks, I was so excited I couldn’t stand to wait an hour before the engine cooled. But I had to because the exhaust pipe that was added to the car post-production; it was installed poorly, and it being super-hot while rubbing against that AC line is what caused the problem. The next project would be to keep that exhaust pipe from bouncing around willy-nilly.

After I had waited the appropriate amount of time, I pulled the car into one of the front parking spots at the barracks. My being in front of a building with two-hundred or so bored soldiers, the hood of my car propped open, and my rear end sticking out. Always garnered some attention. As luck would have it, one soldier walked up beside me.

“Hey? You need some help?”

I kept my head under the hood and glanced to the side where I felt the energy originating. The man stood a bit taller than me; he had a particularly round, jovial face, he was built like a shit brick house, and he always had this playful glint in his eye.

“Why, you a mechanic?” I asked sarcastically.

“Why yes. Yes, ma’am. I am.” He sounded pleased, even proper as he spoke.

I held the piece of tape against the AC line and glanced his way again.

“Mind holding that exhaust pipe thingy out of the way?”

“Thingy? Huh? What are you doing anyway?” The laugh in his voice was evident.

I gave him the run down, told him about the hole in the freon pipe, and showed him what caused the hole. I heard him make that sound people make in their chest when they're thinking, then I felt him set the exhaust pipe gently on my forearm before he turned, and walked away. I continued what I was doing, wondering about this funny guy coming by and rolling out just as quick.

I finished taping the heck out of that pipe, I mean I taped it so much that even IF the exhaust rubbed it, I’d know about it before it cost me anymore freon. After I was finished, I sat in the driver seat with the car door open; triumphant, with the AC running cold. I leaned my head back against the rest and closed my eyes. A few moments passed before I heard.

“Uh. Excuse me ma’am. I have an idea.”

It was that same guy again, standing a respectful distance away from the open car door. He had bent forward at the waist with his hands interlinked against his stomach, his eyes on mine.

“Oh? Do tell.”

I saw him nodding as he pointed to the hood that I had closed earlier. I popped it and came around the front to watch him work. The item he put between the exhaust pipe and the freon pipe was very nearly made to fit there. I watched him take some other metal wire from his pocket and wrap it around the exhaust pipe, before he used zip ties that appeared to connect the wire to the frame of the car on some improvised anchor point that was safe enough for plastic.

“Tape?” I saw his hand go up in the form of a question before he leaned further beneath the hood.

In a flash I had the roll. As I pulled out a piece, I made the thinking sound in my chest -almost like he did- but with a pitch at the end, like you would with a question. He nodded indicating the appropriate length and I cut it. This was the first time of many that we just kind of moved like that, without really conversing.

After he was finished, he introduced himself, and when he shook my hand it wasn’t like how some men do when they are around a strong-minded woman. No, he didn’t squish my hand, he didn't pull me in close or challenge me with a stare. Nope. Everything about him, his approach, was respectful and polite. From that moment on, don’t ask me why, but I knew I could trust him indefinitely.

The next weekend we tested out our -southern/pacific islander engineering- job by traveling to Atlanta. I had already traveled there quite a few times, but he hadn’t left post since he got back state-side, and I couldn’t let him stay in the barracks room another weekend playing Call of Duty. Regardless of how awesomely addictive that game is.

We were about one hundred miles away from post when he started talking about his home, an island near Asia that wasn’t even on the map until just over three decades ago. A place that still practices the tribal way of life. As he spoke in his thick islander accent, he had to yell over the hum of the engine and the sounds of the highway.

“I have to tell you. It’s the craziest thing!”

I glanced to my side. I enjoyed seeing him laugh, it was something he did with his entire being. If he were a lightbulb that responded with laughter, the strobe lights he’d create would amaze any lighting director.

“You’ll never believe 'dis babe. Look, 'dis is how we handle 'da gay people on my island ok?” I saw his hands clap, and though I felt that I wouldn’t like what was coming next, I couldn’t help but smile. The dude was infectious with his happiness. I remember unconsciously releasing my hold on the gas pedal and merging into a slower lane to pay attention.

“Ok, so… when someone say they gay right? In my tribe. We take them to a cliff, we beat them up some, and throw them into the ocean. If they swim back still gay? We do it again.”

My mind did like a tiny explosion, but I kept my composure. Every fiber in my being wondered why I ever thought to invite this guy into my car.

“Ah huh. So glad you’re telling me this now. I uhhh… I hope next time, ya know, knowing what ya do about me now. I hope that next time you kick a gay, do it a few times less for me, and maybe not as hard maybe, OK?”

In an awkward kind of way, I shifted my position in the seat away from him. I believe he noticed this because he leaned toward his window, rolled it up and leaned to turn down the radio staring at me intently as my focus wavered from him to the road and back around again.

“No.” I saw him get really serious. “I won’t ever kick another gay again babe. I will even tell my brudders and family to stop this.”

I relaxed... a little.

“Huh, well thank you love. It warms my heart to know you’ll spare us gays.” I laughed a little because I never imagined saying such a thing to anyone.

“I was listening when your platoon tried to put blame on you. I was in the room next door when your platoon leader, and squad leader jumped on you. I know you were thrown under the bus babe. But the way you challenged them. You told them to do their job better.”

“Yea, that was-”

“Shuddup. Let me finish.”

I waited knowing that I usually miss the social cues telling me to pause, and wait for people to continue.

“You have strong character. I have respect for you.”

I still get chills thinking about that day. That man is one of the reasons I struggle to understand the challenges with animosity these days, or when men claim they can't control their impulses.

When I know that something like disagreeing with a belief, a thing, is as easy as respecting another person's right to live and believe what they choose. Allowing a person to read and study and learn whatever they'd like. And that companies who provide toiletries or clothing for the people or this country, serve ALL people equally. When we all know that there is more to the people in this country than just those with the loudest opinions, the most money, or the most populated cities.

And ok, yea. Maybe, right? Maybe I am over simplifying matters, but when you simmer it down, way down, past the point of ego or subjective concepts like right and wrong? When you get there and ya take a look around? Don't look for Dante or Virgil, they won't be there, because they went up seeking a higher way of judging, one riddled in religious jargon *cough* warfare, before they floated off to never-never land.

We The People? Well, we are all left in the middle here, dreaming of that day when equality looks the same for women as it does for men. When equality looks the same as it does for the mighty white elite as it does for the people of color in this country.

When equality looks, I don't know, something like it is definition in the dictionary.

As a lesbian, a veteran, a woman. I’m blessed to have known and served alongside a man who chooses to look beyond his conditioning into the heart of a person. I’m blessed to have met a person who grew to look past all he knew, that single standard that society tries to shove down people's throats, the conditioning leading people to believe there is only one right way. A person who stepped aside themselves and simply accepted they weren’t in Kansas anymore.

The tides are changing.

And any change that moves us all toward equality

- for everyone-

…is a superior choice to that of the old ways.