Spears and Flutes

Now I don't expect anyone to sit here with me and reminisce about the old days, young as they are (and maybe you, too).

But there's stories folks don't tell on themselves because they're too busy living their lives to brag.

Take two friends of mine, Brent Spears and Becky Paluzzi.

When I was a kid in secondary school, a young woman - Miss Lill, I think we called her - lived for a short time across the street from us at my secondary school band director's house.

Miss Lill ended up marrying an older and distinguished gentleman by the name of Paluzzi who taught music and told funny stories.  He and his new bride settled into a house in another neighbourhood.

As a local lawn boy 30 years ago, I mowed the grassy fields around people's houses, including that of my band director, Mr. Canny.  My mowing job wasn't bad but it was good enough that Mr. Canny talked his music buddy, Mr. Paluzzi, into getting me to mow the grass around his house.

So, to me these were just local customers.

But Mr. Paluzzi's wife is no plain customer.  Becky (or Rebecca these days) just happens to be the Suzuki method teacher for flute in the United States.

Mr. Paluzzi passed away a long time ago but I still remember the good times sitting with him and his wife after I mowed their lawn.  On band trips (especially one to Daytona Beach) he brought a lot of grownup fun to us secondary school kids.

Brent Spears is another local, homegrown product who's done well for himself.

The first time I met Brent we worked for the GE Aerospace division.  Brent was this young kid from the "sticks," growing up on Highway 431 outside Owens Cross Roads, Alabama.  He believed Elvis was still alive.

We attended a physics class together at UAH (University of Alabama-Huntsville).

After GE closed down its engineering design center for the Navy CASS project, Brent and I went our separate ways.  I worked for a sewer flow monitoring company and Brent went on to finish his engineering degree.

Brent is a founder of a local company called Invariant.  The last time I saw him, he and his wife were excited about their new baby, a long but not so far away place from his father's roadside business.

I can still remember Brent as a young man telling me about watching his outdoor tom cat devouring a rabbit headfirst, crunching bones and all, in the field next to his father's house.

I drove past his father's business and house today, looking at all the homes, farms and businesses in this part of north Alabama, wondering about how many of us understand that we're really all the same but have convinced ourselves we're all different.

Insights.

It's a good thing I know how to laugh.  There ain't a single problem in this whole world (and most spots in near space) that a little humour can't make easier to solve.

I've grown too old to worry about images and trying to do the right thing.  My time on Earth is [potentially] less than it was a moment ago and a lot less than how long I've lived so far.  In this time I have left, I'm glad I have friends like Becky and Brent who make me appreciate that first impressions don't last and appearances are almost always deceiving.

Life's a lot happier when you assume nothing.