The Kindness Remains

An orange furry form lies on the road. My throat clenches as I get out of the car. It is Doofus, my favorite cat. Someone has run over him during the night. Damn it. I go pick him up. The body is stiffening but still a little warm. It must have happened only a few hours ago. One of his eyes was popped out of its socket by the tire that must have run over his head. The tightness in my throat extends to my chest. Before it can reach my arms and legs I take the body to the garage, wrap it in an old raincoat and put it in the trunk of my car. I will take the body to the trash bin behind Uptown Bill’s. Doofus doesn’t need it anymore, looking at it depresses me and I am pretty sure that Rejeanne will only cry if she sees it.

On my way to town I get a call from Adam.

“Hey, how ya doin?”

“Okay. How about you?”

“Okay I guess. You coming into town?”

I flick my brights on to remind the oncoming car to dim his lights. “Yeah. Want to get some coffee?”

“Sure.”

“I’m about 10-15 minutes away. See you soon.”

“Cool.”

Adam lives above Gretchen’s Vintage Shoppe. His room is an eclectic collection of strange items from the Vintage Shoppe, art (his and a few others), guitars, espresso pots and bags of yerba mate. He is wearing his fringed cowboy coat and Redwing boots as he comes downstairs and gets into the car. We chat a bit and head downtown to the Plaza, a brick paved pedestrian mall occupying a few blocks of downtown Iowa City. We get our coffee at the Cottage Bakery and take it to the benches outside the Tobacco Bowl. November feels more like October than October did this year. We had a touch of snow one day in October, November has been in the 50s and 60s.

Adam lights a smoke.

“So, it’s a real bummer about Del.”

Del is one of the mainstays of Uptown Bill’s. He closes up shop on the weekends. He went to the hospital a few days ago – he has diabetes and his blood sugar levels were off the chart. I assume his condition has worsened.

“So is he in intensive care?”

“No man. He died yesterday morning.”

“No shit.” I was in the Mall yesterday morning, or at least I think I was in the Mall – I continue to have trouble telling what is real or not these days. Tom didn’t mention anything.

“Yeah he died at 4:40 a.m.”

“Wow. How is Tom dealing with it?”

“He seems okay.”

We chat for a while longer before Adam goes into the Tobacco Bowl and I go to the parking garage. I drive over to see Tom. When I arrive. I sit in the parking lot for a few moments. I had begun writing something about Del a few days ago. I wonder if it still applies. I open my computer and read.

A giant moves across the room. The giant gasps for breath before he reaches the table. Although he has not had a scale large enough to measure him for years, he must be nearing 500 lbs by now. It is hard not to be overwhelmed by the giant’s immense size, it’s easy to join those who see the giant as nothing but a freak – someone who belongs in a circus. When they do so they miss the largest part of the giant – the heart that beats beneath the folds of flesh, the sense of duty to the Mall, the one tiny piece of the earth that has shown him continued kindness. Delbert Atkins (Del to his friends) may be a giant in his frame but he is a mountain in his heart. Del shares his love for food with everyone at the Mall, every Thanksgiving and Christmas there are turkeys with all the fixings, on July 4 and Easter there are hams and on Halloween, Del’s favorite holiday, we can count on pounds and pounds of chocolate – not just the cheap stuff either, but handmade delicacies as tasty as any you can find at an expensive chocolatier. More than food, Del shares himself - always available to talk when you are feeling down. When you’re blue Del can raise your spirits with amazing stories of his adventures in the South Pacific or other exotic places he visited in his role as a CIA agent, Navy Seal or some sort of other ultra-secret special forces unit. Many times I’m not sure if Del’s stories were entirely true, but I am always sure that he thinks they are. Besides, even if they aren’t true they always are entertaining and take your mind off your sorrows. Del is a major part of what makes the Mall the Mall. His spirit and frame provide a large portion of the magic that is Uptown Bill’s.

Yes the words ring true. But now the passage is in the past tense. Delbert is dead.

These past few months have seemed more filled with death than most. Steven, Doofus and now Del. It makes me wonder about my own ending. Steven and Del were cremated – turned into ashes. Doofus was buried at the foot of a large Spruce tree – turned into fertilizer. Does anything remain other than memories, ashes and fertilizer? Perhaps. Perhaps not. Evidence suggests the universe may take little note of creatures like Steve, Del, Doofus and me. Maybe we are just tiny parts of a vast whole that spins and turns in ways beyond our comprehension. Maybe that is all there is – if so, it is enough for me. Regardless, it has not been given me to know the answer. But I do know one thing, at least based on personal experience -when I remain open to kindness it remains behind, no matter what happens to me or those with whom I share it. The kindness of Steve sharing time with Adam and me remains. Del’s kindness to his fellows at the Mall remains. And, Doofus’ kindness in letting me pet and hold him close remains. The kindness remains by being passed on to others. I can pass on the kindness shown me by Steve, Del and Doofus – well, at least some of the time. It is the kindness that lets me hope to face the vastness of the universe with joy rather than fear. May it always be so.