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Hello my dear reader, and let me answer the question that, assuming the basest curiosity on your part must be at the forefront. Yes, I do have some grasp of spelling. Or rather to be fair, Microsoft does. The title you see above is no typo, and not entirely a joke. We\u2019re talking about some Sirius redemption here! How? I\u2019m glad you asked. Even if you didn\u2019t. Imagine if you will, a classically cheesy diaphanous dissolve effect \u2013 and I\u2019ll take you to the when, where, how, and why.<\/p>\n
Let\u2019s start back. WAY back. We\u2019re talking no less than 2004 \u2013 a hieroglyphic age when iPhones were called PDAs and selfies had not yet escaped their digital confines into the public consciousness. If that\u2019s not esoteric enough for you, try to envision people actually going inside of stores to shop. I know, I know, just do your best.<\/p>\n
In this unfathomable landscape, long extinct entities like Circuit City and CompUSA peddled their now laughable wares with the same next big thing glee our current epoch might \u2013 and were just as convinced then as we are now about having invented innovation.<\/p>\n
Into that particular fanfare of ancient consumerism maneuvered, and rather deftly if I do say so, yours truly. Unfortunately, I wasn\u2019t quite so adept at the actual goal of finding a perfect Christmas gift. Two hundred hyperactive pounds of desperate ADHD speed makes short work of holiday crowds, but lacks the same alacrity for unearthing gift inspiration. SQURILL! Just to make matters worse, the inspiration I needed was for my late middle aged stepfather. We\u2019ve all met the type \u2013 hard working, hard playing, doesn\u2019t have it all but has everything they want within reason. Materially speaking, what could an up and coming twenty something really offer that wasn\u2019t another pointless trinket, and still manage to eat the next day? Yes, yes, it\u2019s the thought that counts, but it\u2019s not very thoughtful if you aren\u2019t really trying, yes? Oh, and did I mention it was three days before Christmas?<\/p>\n
Thinking of it all now, it would be fair to say I was sleep shopping. Or perhaps trance shopping. Oh my eyes were open, but fully concerned with scanning shelves, they had no time for obstacle avoidance, living or otherwise. My mind, not exactly the most capable mechanism in the best of times, was similarly busied \u2013 trying to recall any conversation or clue that would aid in the search. Thus left unguided, my body simply darted to and fro in solipsistic ignorance of other people\u2019s right to occupy space. If you were in CompUSA Lexington on the day of 2004-12-22, let me just offer you a blanket apology for the bruises. It wasn\u2019t personal. And if it helps, all of the addled brain drizzling, shelf sleuthing and consummate consumer bullying did in fact produce results. Nestled between two sets of cordless phones (Really? Cordless phones? I said we were in the age of hieroglyphics, not cave paintings!) was a dash mount Sirius Satellite radio. Now for those of you who don\u2019t know, at that time satellite radio was not the perfunctory icon now found on the touch screen of every car, toaster, and mixing spoon. In fact, Sirius wasn\u2019t even Sirius XM yet. They wouldn\u2019t become a Sirius monopoly until sometime in the middle ages.<\/p>\n
None of that mattered to me. In a sudden moment of clarity, Tom\u2019s desire to have access to nascar while plying his second career came in a flash of throwaway conversation some several months prior. You see, Tom had once been the proprietor of a successful automotive parts recycling business, but had recently sold out into retirement. But though his health no longer permitted the full time stress of running a business, he\u2019d still kept the large rollback truck and planned to move cars for other dealers around the country. While my right hand shot forth to snatch the electronic morsel with far more force and verve than truly necessary, I was already imagining myself glowing with pride when he opened the gift. Now Tom could keep abreast of news, sports, and whatever else while traveling. It was something he actually wanted and didn\u2019t already have! Brilliant! If only. I did say redemption didn\u2019t I? To get such a thing, there must first be a fall.<\/p>\n
Let me say right now, the gift itself was not where I failed. It was in fact was well received. Tom would install it in his truck, and on the few trips he did take, it, at least to my knowledge, was quite useful to him. Enough that he even procured a second for his personal transport. No, I\u2019m afraid the failing was already in the making, in a time even before the pre iPhone dark ages we just emerged from. You see, Tom did have some issues. The kind of issues that I care not to describe with the same loquacious enthusiasm as my pushing fellow shoppers about. The kind that come from a bottle of Tequila. The kind that had eventually driven us into a physical altercation that saw him spend two weeks in traction and put me into a state of distrust that could never be recovered. It\u2019s painfully obvious I would continue to seek his approval, the quest for a noteworthy gift being but one of many manifestations. Even so, I could never bring myself to step forward, and fully forgive the various alcohol fueled transgressions. Not even when I was given a privilege so few in my position have.<\/p>\n
Earlier you may note my mention of Tom only making few trips with his truck. The simple fact is that over time, the bottle ceased to make him turn on loved ones, instead simply turning on him. In the span of less than a decade I watched a once powerfully intimidating man of over six feet and four inches with the robustness to match wither away to frail shadow incapable of walking without assistance. A mind once sharp as possum teeth (just in case you never met a possum, that\u2019s really sharp) would inevitably atrophy until conversations were more or less a one sided chore.<\/p>\n
My privilege? Well, you ever read those stories or hear about some event where someone has done something ostensibly unforgivable, then passes on, right before the victim realizes they should have found forgiveness? Often enough it\u2019s a father and son affair, where the son suddenly finds out he has lost his father and it\u2019s too late. There\u2019s no chance to forgive. Not opportunity to exchange apologies. That\u2019s not my story at all. No, Tom\u2019s health failed right under my nose. I was present the night he passed away, after a several months\u2019 hospital stay and struggle that itself could be a book filling tale. A specific scent assailed my nose as I stood over him. It\u2019s something I lack the words to describe for you. I\u2019d not call it a particularly unpleasant odor, at least compared to some, but it is one that with every breath inhaled adds to a kind of dread only else experienced in nightmares. It was a scent I was already familiarized with from previous losses, even without prior encounters, instinct would have told me enough. Tom\u2019s organs were failing. He wouldn\u2019t last another day.<\/p>\n
This was my privilege. I had the opportunity to say goodbye. To forgive. To give Tom a bit of peace before he could hold on no longer, and in doing so absolve myself as well. What did I do with this privilege? Like the various bruised shoppers whose only crime was the temerity of standing in arms reach, I brushed it aside forcefully, selfishly, and foolishly. Goodbyes were said \u2013 but little else.<\/p>\n
Tom passed in early 2013. In the fall of 2015, my mother, still understandably devastated by the loss, finally got around to selling Tom\u2019s old equipment. Among these things was the rollback truck. Since there were also some derelict cars that needed moving about, she had asked me to make use of the truck while we still had it. Thus far unmentioned, I was in a rather poor emotional state over a girl at the time (still am, but I digress) and perhaps this left me overly sensitive. Or perhaps it was a random epiphany. In either case, the moment I hopped up into that car hauler I saw it. The now ungracefully aging Sirius Radio. I won\u2019t tell you I broke down and cried or lost focus on my task. What I will say dear friend, is that right there and henceforth the regret of my mistake almost two years prior finally struck.<\/p>\n
Regret is the kind of thing that quickly become an obsession. I am the kind of person who obsesses over things. Problems must be met with action. This is NOT a great combination to set on the world. There is after all nothing to be done about Tom. I had my chance. I blew it. But then, there was a girl wasn\u2019t there? Now I know what you\u2019re thinking. Go make things right with the girl and redeem myself that way, yes? No. Much as I\u2019d love to she wanted nothing to do with me then and even less now. Besides, doesn\u2019t that sound a bit clich\u00e9d? But she does have a part to play, albeit very indirectly. You see, I knew this girl through growing up best friends with her cousin. Elementary to high school I had two inseparable friends, eventually adding a third. The kind of best friends where you live out of each other\u2019s refrigerators, are subject to every mother\u2019s rules, and their front lawns still smell like home. The first is still another mother\u2019s brother. The third became a Navy Seal and died heroically in the fall of 2010. But the second one, the girl\u2019s cousin? We\u2019d long parted ways. When that radio appeared, it was him that I thought of. Sound silly? Let me explain. The reason we\u2019d not really spoken was simple. At one time shortly before high school ended, there had been a near altercation between us. An altercation that only defused by my own pride getting digested. Since then, we\u2019d been friendly on encounter, but I\u2019d avoided any meaningful contact. Tom\u2019s betrayal and my friend\u2019s somehow intertwined. I simply had not been able to let either go.<\/p>\n
Worse than all of that perhaps, is I\u2019d hoped to reconnect with my friend as a sort of side effect to seeing the girl (let\u2019s call her Jane). No, that certainly wasn\u2019t my interest in Jane, I just thought she hung the moon. But that didn\u2019t make the idea any less cowardly. Just think of it \u2013 I\u2019d actually, consciously planned to let the fact he and I would cross paths a lot from dating his cousin do the work for me of reconnecting. Gutless, lazy, no less than the work of a wool dyed sycophant. More to the point, with Jane no longer interested, that wasn\u2019t going to happen anyway. If I wanted my friend back, I\u2019d have to do something I\u2019d never managed in this life thus far \u2013 to let go. Oh, and also, to reach out and be social. Not exactly a forte either. But if I couldn\u2019t learn a lesson from Tom, then I would deserve to wallow in the emotional fallout. The site of that little radio was just the catalyst I needed to stop being craven and pick up the phone.<\/p>\n
Today I can proudly say my friend and I are, well, friends again. At some point there may be awkward run ins with Ms. Jane, but that\u2019s another river to cross. Did I get a redemption? I would never be so arrogant to claim such a thing for sure. But I did learn a lesson, put said lesson into action, and was rewarded with renewed friendship \u2013 something that I know doesn\u2019t come cheap. If that isn\u2019t at least some form of redemption, I am at a loss to define what would be. Thanks CompUSA. Siriusly.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
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