So, I'm commuting to work several years ago at about 6:30 a.m. in the morning. It was a fairly cold morning and I notice a fellow slogging along the highway's shoulder. I have a theory about maniacs/'bad guys' that states if it is after 5:30 a.m., you are generally safe from these types as they have just finished up their dastardly deeds or their attempts at dastardly deeds and called it a 'day.' So, at an hour past that crazy-man cut-off time I felt I was safe. I pulled over and picked him up. He was relatively young and needed a ride to a town about 20 miles down the road which happened to be where I was going. We had a bit of small talk and I asked what he did.
"I'm a welder at the school they're building back there."
I smiled, "Say, that's great. I understand that welders make a pretty good living. That's great." I smiled again, warmed by the fact that I had helped out this fine, industrious fellow on this cold morning.
My mind wondered to Lyn, a friend of mine, who had opted for vocational training rather than the university route and had traveled to Oklahoma and Tulsa to go to the Tulsa Welding School. Lyn had been excited about the school and led me to view Tulsa Welding as the pinnacle of welding instruction. So, I mentioned this to my early morning passenger.
"Yep..that is a great school my friend tells me, and he's doing pretty darn well, let me tell you." Afraid that I might offend the fellow if he hadn't gone to that prestigious welding institution himself, I added, "But, of course, there are many great schools for welding. Where did you get your training?" And you see, folks, this one simple question needn't really have been asked. I was just being nice. I don't know one welding school from another, so it didn't really matter if my hitch-hiker friend would have said 'Key West Aqua-Welding' or 'Arkansas Welding & Technical Institute.' But, he didn't say either of those. He didn't say 'Key West Aqua-Welding' or anything with the word 'Arkansas' in it. No. Like a fellow trying to get his life together by being brutally honest with himself and others, he was brutally honest with himself and me. I wish he could have strayed just a bit from his narrow path to wholeness, since I had given him a ride and all.
He squirmed in his seat and gave sort of a dead-faced look down the road we were traveling, "I was in prison for 12 years and learned welding there." He didn't say any more, but kept looking forward.
I nodded obligatorily as I felt the hair from my ass to the top of my head stand on end. I smiled and tried not to swerve off the road and I can tell you I was thinking of changing my 5:30 a.m. crazy-man theory to 7:00 a.m. or maybe even as late as 10:00 a.m. It made me wish I had started with that question as he was still hiking along the road...just rolled up beside him, put down the window and casually asked, "Where did you learn welding?"
"That's...great...just uhmm, uh, great. Yeah." Now, it was either sit in utterly defeated silence with the felon or come up with some conversation and move it along to other topics. I really wasn't thinking clearly so I asked the stupidly obvious thing to ask, which means it is the obvious thing not to ask.
"What were you in for?" I've got to hand it to this guy. He was on the straight and narrow. No lies hiding his past with me. No, sir. Nope, nothing but honesty here, friend. He moved about in the seat a bit and cleared his throat, wiped his lips with his hand and gave even a deader-eyed gaze down the road as if I were some gremlin/devil come to torment him as he was making his honest way to some town twenty miles down a cold highway. 'No escaping the truth on this highway,' he was probably thinking to himself.
"I was seventeen and I got into trouble for uh, uh, aggravated assault and uh, uhm, and uh car-jacking." Straight down the road into his future he morosely and resolutely gazed. "I'm going up the road for an appointment with my parole officer." He said this last in the manner of beating me to any of my other awkward questions I was sure to stumble into.
I was numb and wasn't even nodding anymore as I joined him in staring morosely down the road.
"Well, welding is a good profession. Yes. Yes, welding is a good profession," I said. He nodded. That was it. After that we spoke very little the remaining couple of minutes to town. I took him by the court-house and waved as he left. Not a bad fellow. A nice fellow, in fact. I'm glad I helped him. I'm glad I didn't know his story before I picked him up or I wouldn't have stopped. He probably did just fine with himself. I hope so. He wasn't going to lie for anything and that's the first step to finding our way...not lying to ourselves, first and foremost. tulsa