A Little Advice...
Leap Day comes but once every four years, and on this Leap Day, I found myself with time on my hands in the car this morning. During that time the following came to mind...
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“I feel like being a grown-up tonight.” An ironic statement, for sure, especially coming from a twenty-one year old fraternity boy who still referred to himself as “Tommy.” It was a sincere statement nonetheless. Tommy Benjamin was ensconced in the final semester of his college career and had grown weary of his typical, mid-week lifestyle. Tommy would be an adult, by society’s standards, in less than three months upon his graduation. He didn’t want to wait.
Convincing several of his brothers to eschew their usual jaunt to the strip of Main Street college bars, Tommy suggested they do something a little more mature. Donning their best dress slacks and neatly pressed shirts, they instead took the metro downtown for an evening listening to some live music at Coltrane’s, a tiny, hole in the wall jazz bar they had discovered by accident one night after a hockey game. Coltrane’s was a two level restaurant with a rustic, wood plank floor and aged, brick walls that seemed to have absorbed the years of cigar smoke and conversation that filled them. Tommy smiled.
“This is more like it,” he said confidently as they strode in and found themselves a spot at the far corner of the bar. Opposite the bar, tucked in a little brick alcove barely big enough to hold the musicians and their instruments, a three man jazz band played softly. It was still early and they would pick up the tempo later in the evening, but for now Tommy relaxed and enjoyed the smoothness with which they played. Relaxing was not one of Tommy’s strong suits, but when he did it, he did it well.
The boys, and they were boys, laughed, listened and drank. From time to time Tommy would take a swig from the bottle in his hand though he really wasn’t what you would call a beer drinker. Drifting in and out of the conversation, Tommy was more inclined to take in his surroundings and enjoy the hum of the conversations and revelry around him. That was when Tommy saw him.
In the back of the bar there was a small lounge area that consisted of several old, cracked-leather chairs surrounding a worn out coffee table. It was the man that sat in the only occupied chair that caught Tommy’s eye. The man oozed wealth and stature. His thick, grey hair was combed neatly and perfectly parted. He wore an obviously custom-tailored, black, pinstriped suit with plain black socks and supple leather loafers. The sleeves of the white-collared, cobalt blue shirt he wore ended in white French cuffs closed by black onyx cuff links with small diamonds in their centers. His gold tie bore tiny blue stars that perfectly matched his shirt. The only movement the man made was to lift to his lips the double old fashioned glass he held in his hand. When he did so, Tommy noticed the Breitling watch that adorned his wrist, a watch that likely cost more than a semester’s worth of Tommy’s classes. It was only the stubble on his face, which Tommy estimated to be three day’s worth, which belied his otherwise impeccable appearance. The man intrigued Tommy greatly. When he closed his eyes and stopped moving, Tommy rose impulsively from his bar stool.
“Where are you going?” one of his brothers asked.
“Huh? Nowhere,” he replied, never taking his eyes off of the man. “I’ll be right back.” Tommy walked over to the lounge and stood beside the man’s chair. “Pardon me sir,” he began politely. “Are you alright?”
The man opened his eyes and smiled as he looked up at Tommy. Ignoring Tommy’s inquiry, he made one of his own.
“Do you know what today is?” the man asked. Surprised by the question, Tommy fumbled over his response.
“Um, Wednesday?” he replied, as if he wasn’t sure.
“No, no, no,” the man said, slightly agitated. “The date, boy, the date.”
“February twenty-ninth,” Tommy answered. The man grinned again.
“That’s right, that’s right. Leap Day. February twenty-ninth. Son, sit down. I’m going to offer you five pieces of advice that every man should know.”
Tommy did as instructed, suddenly entranced by the man that sat to his right. There was something that drew Tommy to him, a sense of familiarity. Tommy listened intently.
“First, and this is very important, if you’re going to drink, drink scotch. Scotch is a man’s drink. Any fool can drink a watered down beer. It takes a stout man to drink scotch.”
Tommy embarrassingly looked down at the bottle of Blue Light in his hand and set it on the table in front of him as the man continued.
“Scotch is a complex drink. It’s a pensive man’s drink. It’s something not every man can embrace, but those that do, well, there’s something a little more special about them. And none of that ‘on the rocks’ bullshit. You drink it neat, with a splash of water. Do you understand?”
Tommy nodded intently.
“Good. Second, always wear a pressed shirt. I don’t care if it’s a dress shirt, T-shirt, sweatshirt, or whatever. Never, ever, wear a wrinkled shirt. That tells people you’re sloppy. It says that you’re too lazy to pay attention to detail. A wrinkled shirt shows the world that you don’t care. It takes all of two minutes to iron a shirt. People will glean their first impression of you from your appearance, and once that impression takes hold, it will hold forever. Present yourself well, and people will think well of you.”
The rest of the bar around them seemed to disappear as the man spoke. Tommy was enthralled.
“Third, and simply, read. Read a book, a magazine, a cook book, but for God’s sake read something. Television will never stimulate your mind because it spoon feeds you images and ideas that you can’t formulate on your own. Read, and then close your eyes and imagine. Reading Reading
“Fourth,” he began again without pausing this time. “Always wear a good watch,” he said, tapping his timepiece. “It doesn’t have to be expensive, it just has to be reliable. A good watch keeps you focused. And again, like with the shirt, it tells people that you pay attention. It shows you to be a complete man, one conscious of what’s going on around him. It makes you a man that knows the importance of punctuality and courtesy. Always wear a good watch.”
Suddenly the man drew silent and sipped his scotch once, then twice. He sat pensively without moving, causing Tommy to speak for the first time since the man began.
“You said you had five pieces of advice. May I ask, what is the fifth?”
The man turned a steely gaze toward Tommy that gave Tommy the chills.
“Today is February twenty-ninth. This day comes around once only every four years. It’s extra time, do you understand?” the man asked, leaning forward and placing a firm grip on Tommy’s arm. If Tommy didn’t know better he would have said that there was a great fear in the man’s eyes. “Extra time! Do you have any idea how precious that is?” Tommy nodded negatively.
“Take advantage of the time you have, son. Don’t waste it. Not a second. Before you know it, the time you had will be gone and you will forever lament the time you didn’t spend.” His eyes grew glassy, but he quickly regained his composure and released Tommy’s arm before continuing.
“Too many people take their time on this earth for granted. They waste it on foolish endeavors or sit idle while time slips away. Make your time meaningful. Listen to a song that moves you. Read a book that inspires you. Hold someone you love. Write. Sing. Dance. Do something that means something. Before you know it, your time is gone, ever to be replaced by sorrow and regret.”
Tommy sat silently for a moment, reflecting on the man’s words. Neither said a thing for several minutes until the man spoke one last time.
“Promise me, son, that’ll you’ll heed my advice. I don’t impart it lightly.”
“I will, I promise,” Tommy replied truthfully.
“Good. Now go back to your friends, and enjoy your time with them.” The man smiled broadly and held his hand out to Tommy without getting up. Tommy shook it firmly, nodded, smiled, and walked back to the bar where his brothers were waiting.
“Where were you?”
“Over there,” Tommy replied, pointing towards the lounge, “talking to,” he said, his voice trailing off quickly.
“Talking to who?” his brother asked, confusedly. Tommy stared at the empty chair in disbelief as all evidence of the man, and the conversation he and Tommy had just shared, was gone, save the half empty beer bottle Tommy had set on the battered coffee table.
“No one, never mind,” Tommy said without taking his eyes off of the empty chair.
“Another blue light?” the bar tender asked, vying for Tommy’s attention.
“No,” Tommy answered, his gaze still fixed on the chair. “I’ll have a Johnny Black, neat, with a splash of water.”
© 2012 J.J. Goodman. All rights reserved.