Henry and Dan

“Nice ride, you got there—looks sort of happy,” he said.  There was a chill in the wet dark gray sky which matched my mood perfectly.  It had been a morning full of small but mounting frustrations. On a short break from errands I was leaning against my red pick-up truck outside of the no-seating allowed Starbucks looking down into my hot cup of coffee.  “His name is Henry The Helper Truck,” I volunteered as I raised my eyes.  And then: “You’re Dr. Baer! Wow.  It’s been about 20 years. It’s me, Dan M. from your English class.”  I recognized him instantly.  The multiple scars across his face.  The severely drooping left eye.  His warm, uplifting smile.  “You know, I never would have thought of you as a truck person,” he chuckled and continued, “but Henry here seems to fit you well.”  I laughed: “He does, indeed. He seemed like a practical solution to lots of our needs, but he’s more than that.  He seems to have lots of personality.  Lots of…” And Dan jumped in: “character.  He has character.”
We chatted amiably for a few minutes.  Memories came.  Forgotten details.  “I’m a veterinarian now, in North Jersey.  I’m here for a few days to check on my dad.  My mom passed away a few years ago.”  We both looked at each other, remembering.  He had suffered near-fatal injuries during the first semester in my class.  The family home went up in flames and he rushed back in to rescue his mom and younger sister who were passed out on the kitchen floor.  The sister died in his arms. 
He returned to school the following year.  I remember the downcast head, the reluctance to respond to any discussion questions, the defeated indifference to his work at the beginning.  And then the change.  One day he showed me pictures of a dog his uncle had given him—a terrier he named “Moxie”.  Slowly at first and then with gathering speed Dan’s demeanor changed.  Eager to demonstrate his hard work, his hand went up immediately when I posed questions.  His papers, once careless and superficial, became insightful and precise.  And, for the first time, I began hearing him laugh—a deep, throaty laugh that softened the hard edges of the  metal desks, beige-painted concrete walls, and white boards of our college classroom and beckoned others to join him.
And 20 years later, here he was, smiling at me as I leaned against Henry sipping my now lukewarm coffee.  “You know," he said, " when we studied that sonnet by Shakespeare—the one that goes:
‘When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself and curse my fate’?  Well, it was like he was talking to me.  I couldn’t believe how he knew how I felt.  It was a low point in my life and I didn’t know how I’d ever get out of it.”  He shook his head and I continued, “Good ole Will certainly understood the universals of our humanity, didn’t he?” We both chuckled.  Dan continued, “You asked us to think about what person or thing or being made us feel hope—made us feel happy just because they were in our lives.  And it came to me immediately: “Moxie”.  No matter what, she made me happy just knowing she was in my world.” 
Ah, yes, the end of that sonnet.
“You know when I finally had my own vet practice, I framed that sonnet and put it in the waiting areas.  Sometimes people ask me about it, but usually they get it.  They get how thinking about love—a person or a pet or a profession—can make you better--richer. Can turn any day around. I’ll never forget you for bringing me that gift.”
He sighed as his cell phone beeped—a text urging him to get to his father’s bedside.  Before we waved our good-byes, he stopped, and began the last lines of the sonnet from memory. I joined in joyfully and loudly, our faces turned to the sky, right there, outside of the coffee shop, on a cold New Jersey morning—with Dan at the open door of his car, and with me leaning on my little red truck my minor irritations now forgotten: “Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
(Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth) sings hymns at heaven’s gate;
      For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings
      That then I scorn to change my state with kings.”

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