I worked with a fellow named John. (No fear of him recognizing himself with such a common name.) I hadn't thought of him in ages until yesterday when a single word brought him back to my memory and I started grinning.
He was neatly groomed, always impeccable. Nicely bearded, pleasant to look at - and an complete original. He sported a statue of the Madonna of Prague in his office and, on the back of the door, had a pinup picture. Actually, I rather liked him, but you have to take the entire package, and he was an original.
He loved cigars, loved brandy, loved to speak at length (not, surprisingly, pontificating) on things that were meaningful to him. He offered to allow me to read his theological treatise on dying (he worked in insurance). I thanked him with great enthusiasm but said that I had so many projects, I doubted I could give his work the attention it merited. He beamed and did everything but bow.
He was a wonderful mine of erudite, eloquent gibberish. I started jotting down his words:
But you have to understand - we have to take the bull by the horns and drive it!
I scrawled that down in a notebook. And this:
Just because we are taking a muscular stance does not mean that we have to ride that horse to the bitter end and go down with it!
Oh, John, I miss you! I'm not sure you miss me, though, after that time I zinged you good on the subject of required reports on April Fool's day. *sigh*
Dignity. Always dignity.