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I once met a gentleman on an Amtrak train whose name was Sitruc Nosttam.*He was some 20 years my senior which was a real treat to me because I have great respect for and love talking with people much older than myself.  We sat together from Salt Lake City, Utah to Reno, Nev. Sitruc indicated that he had spent much of his life alone, riding the trains from New York to Los Angeles. He had ridden many of the routes, and the Chicago to Sacramento route was the one he liked best.                                                                                                                                                             

After conversing about a myriad of issues, he told me about a story of himself                                                  and a church he once attended many years ago. He had written his short story in the form of a letter to that church which he mailed to them a couple of years after moving away.  He never expected a reply because he moved about on a regular basis. During a coffee break, he pulled out an envelope which contained the letter he had written many years ago.  The letter was dated June 18, 1967, and the church was located in Bozrah, New Mexico. He read the letter to me as I will read it to you just as he wrote it.
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"To the people of Lifeline Baptist Church, greetings.                                                                                                                  

Upon first seeing and hearing you, I did not like you.                                                                                                             When I actually met you, I liked you even less.                                                                                                                    At first, everything you tried to do for and with me                                                                                            had no appeal to me.  It drew me neither toward nor away                                                                                   from you. It appeared that I had intentionally gravitated into                                                                                      a total state of inertia. However, it also seems the more I shut you out,                                                                    the more you got next to me. As you know, this went on for several                                                                years before I began to open up and behave like a sociable human being.

But it wasn't your fault. When I met you, everyone and everything was like                                                                a bitter herb to me. The best that anyone could do for me was to leave me                                                    alone.  You were like a long line I was in only because someone else wanted                                                             me to be in that line.  It was as if you were to me like four bad encounters                                                       before I met you, and I had no reason to believe that you would be any different.                                                                                  

It was like I was wearing a sign that read, 'Leave Me Alone', but there were those who often ignored the sign and pursued me anyway. I was tired of 'more of the same'. I was fed up with hearing the word "NO" from the lips of others and releasing the word "YES" from my own lips. So I began to feel the thrill of "NO" from my lips. It just felt like the right thing to do, and it felt so good.                                                                                                                                                

There were certain guys like Buddy and Bill, Fred and Ted, Mickey and Milas.                                             These guys and others were relentless, going above and beyond.  Those guys                                                   did not believe in just minding their own business; and I am the better for it."

Sincerely, Sitruc.
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After reading the letter to me, Sitruc returned it to his pocket and said goodbye to me. I didn't know what to make of it. "Why did he share this letter with me?  Was there a point he was trying to make with me? Was he an angel in disguise delivering a message to me?"  I have often thought about that elderly gentleman I met on the train and the letter he read to me so many years ago.

111821PS                                                                                                                                                                       *Fiction
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