Finding Chris

The story of a young man I know well.

Finding Chris

The abrupt bang of a metal-rending crash split the morning air. Chris had been sauntering listlessly along the sidewalk on his way to work. Now he hurried toward the auto accident along with the crowd of the curious onlookers that was already gathering. As he approached, he heard muffled cries of pain coming from the wreck. Half a block down the street from where Chris had been, a young woman with two children in a yellow Jetta had just been broadsided in the intersection by a pickup truck. Chris had not been close enough to see who had run the stop light, and as he approached, people were already discussing it. But none had moved closer to the vehicles to help.

Chris was wondering if he himself should try to do something, when from somewhere to his right, a blue sedan pulled over and a late-middle-aged man got out, slamming the door. As he reported the accident to 911 on his cell phone, the man hurriedly pushed his way through the crowd to get to the victims. Without saying a word, he stopped and looked over the driver of the pickup, decided the airbag had done its work there, and reached across to turn off the ignition key. Then he entered the opposite side of the Jetta and extracted the screaming children, child seats and all. He asked a woman who was standing nearby to help calm the little boy and to gently support his arm. The boy was well beyond terrified, and obviously had at least a broken arm. He shouted at the people to get back because there was gasoline on the pavement, and the vehicles were steaming. Then he went to work on the driver, who was now unconscious, pinned by the crumpled door and bleeding profusely. Applying direct pressure to her wounds, he also worked at freeing her body from the wreckage until the police and ambulance arrived.

Chris looked on, thoroughly impressed. The man had gone to work without hesitation. As the woman was loaded into the ambulance with her children, a paramedic remarked, “You probably saved her life.” The man nodded once, got into his car and drove away, without saying a word.

Over the remaining two blocks he had to cover to get to work, Chris considered what he'd seen. The man who had done all of that had been about the age of Chris's father, a man Chris, in a childish way, rather despised. Chris himself was a young man of twenty-three, usually happy-go-lucky and about as care-free as young men come. He had never considered going to college, joining the service, looking for a better job, or doing much of anything. He just carried out his duties in the company mail room, hung with his friends and occasionally he drank. That was about it.

Chris was still thinking about the personal strength and calm displayed by the stranger when he arrived at work and entered the building at the side door. That strength probably didn't show up until it was needed, he realized. Chris punched in at the time clock. As always, he pointed a finger at Bailey, a young woman sitting at the nearby desk who ran the supply room. Bailey was a “sort of” friend of his, who was twenty-five. Chris didn't really know much about her.

On the way down the narrow hallway, a sharply-dressed, attractive woman of twenty-two approached. Here was Miranda, a sweet-looking girl who never noticed Chris at all. He'd given up saying good morning to Miranda because she always ignored him, and she didn't appear to see he was present today, either. “A shame,” thought Chris.

It seemed that the only person who had ever noticed what or how Chris was doing, was Bailey. Today she noticed that he seemed deep in thought, and that was more than a little out of character for him. So she asked him to join her at lunch.

Chris had not brought any lunch, as usual, because he didn't want to take the trouble to pack any. He really didn't make enough to go out and buy lunches, so he usually just took a walk. “Ah, I don't pack,” he replied.

“It's okay,” she offered. “I always pack two sandwiches. I wanna talk to you. Like, you're so sullen. What's up?”

Chris sat down, accepted an egg-salad sandwich, and related what he'd seen that morning on his way in. Bailey smiled and nodded. “Makes you think, doesn't it? A whole lot of people have that other side. I'll just bet you do, too.”

Chris didn't really think so. So he changed the subject, hungrily accepting a Twinkie from the two-pack Bailey had brought. “Tell me more about Bailey,” he said, smiling. “What do you do with all your free time?”

As he quickly discovered, Chris didn't know anything at all about Bailey. She had a little girl who was now in kindergarten, she had no car, and this job was only what she did during the daytime. “Three evenings a week,” she asserted proudly, “I am a student at the university.” Bailey had dropped out of high school, then had gotten pregnant, but not married. “The father was not available,” was all she would say. The university would not accept students that only had a GED, rather than a diploma, so she was attending as an adjunct student until she could accumulate college credits that would allow her to enroll. She was paying for all of it, and, she had a goal. “I 'm gonna be the best RN the medical center has ever seen!” she exclaimed.

For the second time that day, Chris was truly impressed. Who would have expected this? Here was another person with a whole lot of resolve and inner strength, and she was using it. Chris said so.

“Well, how about you?” Bailey smiled.

It was time to get back to work.

If Chris was sullen before, he was even more-so now. As he walked home from work that evening, it seemed as though there was a bridge he needed to cross. It wasn't like he wanted to live with his parents. He just couldn't afford an apartment yet, plus groceries, plus a car, and insurance, all of that bullshit. To Chris, it was bullshit, specifically because he couldn't have it. He began to mentally make the connection between respectability and gaining the respect of others, and how it might affect one's personal prosperity. Obviously, it had to be earned. And if Bailey could make it...

“Duuude!” The greeting came from Chris's friend Shawn, who spotted him from across the street. Chris just wasn't in the frame of mind to deal with it. Shawn was the ultimate pot-head, a doper extraordinaire.

“Hey later,” Chris shouted in response. “Got somewhere to be.”

In fact he had nowhere to be, and that suddenly seemed really sad. But he had always thought Shawn was a jerk, and somehow Chris couldn't believe he'd been hanging with the guy. Screw him. He did his best to work his way through the people on the sidewalk, to get clear of him.

Dead ahead was a big sign above an entrance, more than ten feet long and about three feet high. ARMED FORCES, it trumpeted. Chris knew Shawn wouldn't follow him in there, and anyway, he was curious. Inside the lobby were three doors, one each labeled Army, Navy, and Air Force, respectively. Only the desk outside of the Navy office was attended by a recruiter. Seeing a prime young possibility before him, the recruiter immediately stood up, smiled and extended a hand. “Welcome, young man!” Chris grinned, shook the man's hand, and went inside.

And he was truly surprised. Chris had expected the hard-sell, but he had no intention of signing up, and he did not. But he had not expected the guy to have so much ammunition! It did appear there was a lot to be had there – college money, bonuses, experience, respect. Not to mention world travel, training, and the honor of serving his country. Ha! Not today. Chris listened, but kept his arms folded in front of him, or his hands in his pockets. It sounded too good. There had to be a catch, which of course, there was.

He finally smiled, thanked the recruiter for the information, got up and shook his hand to go. The recruiter did not have to feign disappointment. He knew he had a great candidate, he had seen something special in Chris, and he said so. Chris wouldn't take any brochures with him, but he did accept a card, because it seemed too impolite not to accept it. On his way out, the recruiter called after him. “When you're ready, man, call me!” He nodded and left, but dropped the card into the next trash receptacle he saw.

Chris wandered on toward home, thinking about the day. The place that had bored him the most was work. But for the first time ever, it occurred to him that it might be his own fault. He considered to himself, what kind of a guy settles for working forever in a mail room?

At that particular point in time, Chris had about a hundred dollars in his checking account, a personal best. He had twenty dollars in his wallet and a debit card. Haircut. That was it. He turned off the sidewalk and into a barber shop.

An elderly gentleman was just getting up to get into the barber chair, when Chris walked through the door. “Ho, hey!” The old man sat back down. “You can have my turn.” Two other men were sitting and waiting, and they started to laugh.

Chris grinned. Yeah, maybe it was time for a haircut. Take what you're given.“Well okay!”

He sat down and the barber draped the apron across him. “How d' you want it?” he asked.

Smiling again, Chris laughed, mostly to himself. “Make me look respectable.” The others obviously thought that was funny, too. “Well whatever,” he thought.

Chris decided it wasn't time to go home just yet, so he stopped at McDonalds and bought a couple of sandwiches and a Coke, and kept walking. There was a ridge above the city that overlooked the better part of it, and he set out for the top of that ridge. It was a good five-mile walk up a paved mountain road, and dusk was settling over the city when he reached the summit. He leaned back against a tree and gazed out over the lights and the haze. Stars were coming out. He just stood there, and he thought.

It was nearly eleven p.m. when Chris reached home. He got a shower and went to bed.

When morning came, Chris reminded himself it was payday, and he decided to have a little fun with his fresh haircut. He shaved and he combed his hair. Instead of his ripped and faded jeans, he pulled on a pair of trousers. Instead of his 'Bud Light' t-shirt, he chose a button-down dress shirt. And, he tucked it in, and added a leather belt, and even put on his best pair of tennis shoes. It was a veritable transformation. Chris glanced in the mirror on his way out of the bedroom, and it stopped him. Add a tie, and he could have been headed to church. Or a wedding, or a funeral.

Walking down the steps and into the kitchen for a bowl of cereal, his mother and dad were already eating. At the sight of Chris, they were dumbstruck. Finally, his dad broke the silence. “Who died?” he asked.

Chris grinned. “I did.” He got a bowl of corn pops and added milk, and ate in silence. His parents only watched, amazed.

On his way to work, Chris noticed his friends Shawn and Dave, who were walking the opposite way on the other side of the street. He saw Dave look over at him, but he didn't recognize Chris. “Ha!” thought Chris. “I can handle this.”

His reception at work was even more surprising, both to Chris and to his co-workers. But if one had been weighed against the other, it would have been a close match. People began immediately to see Chris in a new light, because he wasn't just an average looking guy. He was a handsome young man, and without the stubble, straggly hair, sandals, ripped jeans and beer shirt, it really showed. The difference was actually startling.

“Baabe!” Bailey looked at Chris, wide-eyed. “What, I say, what, happened to you?”

“I got real,” Chris replied, smiling. He felt a little bashful.

“Well, I like real!”

As he walked down the narrow hallway toward the mailroom, Miranda approached. But this time she had to look twice. How in the world did this Brad Pitt-type get in here? “Hey, hi.” Chris was so stunned that he couldn't answer, so he nodded, smiled and kept walking. To Miranda, that was the coolest thing he could have done. But as he walked past her, Chris felt himself blushing.

At lunch, Chris collected his paycheck and walked around the corner to the bank. He cashed the check, put the money in his wallet and walked on to the diner at the corner. He took a booth and ordered a good lunch. Two hands around a warm cup of coffee, and he thought some more about his life. Chris realized for the first time that if he worked at it, he could probably do any damned thing he wanted. He could go to college, he could not go to college. He could get a better job, or he could start a business of his own. He could sell cars. He could build skyscrapers. Or, he could design them. Any damned thing he wanted.

Suddenly he remembered work. He looked at the clock, there were only ten minutes left. He ate quickly, paid the check and hurried back.

There was one more surprise waiting. As Chris slipped in through the employee's entrance, Bailey was waiting. “Hey Chris, the boss wants to see you.”

“What for? I'm not late,” he answered.

“I have no idea.”

Chris walked briskly to the boss's office, expecting the worst. The job was really all he had at this point. He wondered what he'd done wrong; probably nothing, but the boss was a stickler, and Chris may have put somebody's mail in the wrong place. Just his luck, he must have pissed-off somebody important.

Instead, as Chris knocked on the wooden door frame and stepped into the office, the boss stood up and offered a handshake. “Close the door,” he said, “and sit down.” Chris did.

Instead of a firing, the boss stunned Chris by delivering a sales pitch about opportunities with the company. They would be needing a new manager in the assembly department, there were opportunities right now in shipping, and there were so many open doors beyond those stepping stones. “And you,” said the boss, “are the right kind of young man for this company. People are talking about you, I've heard it myself. People are impressed with you. The only direction for a man like you, in this company, is up!”

Instead of showing his surprise, Chris displayed a serious look.

All in one day. All of this had happened in one day, and it came from just changes in attitude, dress and appearance. But there was more, because Chris felt different inside. He felt older, more responsible, more capable.

It felt really, really good.

Chris thought back to one day earlier, and the quiet calm displayed by the man who was saving and protecting lives in a methodical way. He felt envy, and admiration for the man. "Gotta get me some of that," he thought.

He stood up, reached out and shook the boss's hand, thanked him for all of that, and added that he had some thinking to do. Could he go back to work?

“Absolutely,” the boss replied with a smile. “Give it some thought.”

After work, Chris stepped out into the warm evening air and picked right back up on his thoughts from lunchtime. He had always wanted to design things, and it would be truly awesome to do that, and to see something built just as he had designed it. But to do that, you needed a college education.

Then there was Miranda. With a better position at the company, he could see himself getting involved, getting married, struggling to get by on too little income, having children, and like some of his friends had already experienced, foundering in debt and divorce, fighting over babies.

“Noo shit! That tears it,” he thought.

He walked purposefully to that big sign he'd seen, the day before. Through the door he went.

The Navy recruiter stood up, as he did for everyone who had the nerve to walk inside. Then he thought he recognized the face. Couldn't be!

But it was.

The catch? The United States Navy would require that he use all of his talents, would test his strengths, build them up and then build upon them, bury his weaknesses, develop his confidence, and reward him according to his effort. It wouldn't be an easy gig.

“I'm ready,” said Chris. And so he was.

There are a few fortunate souls who know what they want from the beginning, who are born with the drive to get there, and to whom the resources are available to make it all happen. For the rest of us, who make up the vast majority of humankind, we will be led because we never learned to lead. Throughout our lives we are driven around by events as if by the wind, because we never took matters into our own hands or put down roots. Many of us won't make it, but some, like Chris, will.

There are several ways we can make things work for ourselves, to challenge life instead of being challenged by it. Chris had found one such way.

It's still out there, by the way.

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