The Almighty: “Are We on His Wave-Length?”

[Teach]

“Most people aren’t on the same page as the Almighty,” my late friend “Bucko” would oft say. “Bucko” and I were like “peas in a pod.” We were both teachers. “Bucko” taught science; I taught history. We both shared a passion for gambling. Many was the time, as we made our way to Suffolk Downs or to Rockingham Park, or later to Foxwoods and Mohegan Sun, we’d talk about a variety of topics.

One of “Bucko’s” favorites was religion. As I think back, I would have never considered “Bucko” a zealot. Our discussions weren’t so much about Old and New Testament scripture, but more about what “Bucko” liked to call: religious “wave-lengths.” “Bucko’s” favorite comment was: “Most people are not tuned to divine messaging.” He would add, “They miss the Lord’s ‘words.’” He’d continue, “They’re tuned to the “wrong” station.” He’d often finish up by saying, “Most people are so caught up in their own daily lives that they’re oblivious to the subtleties of life.”

“Bucko” would cite, as an example, an incident that involved his parents’ and older brothers’ graves (He was the youngest of five children). “Bucko” would tell me that one summer afternoon he was outside doing “yard-work” when he spotted a rainbow that was situated directly over a cemetery where his family’s burial plot is located.

Before I go on any further, I should mention that “Bucko” was the quintessential “numbers player.” He would buy, on a regular basis, numerous MA lottery number-combinations, e.g., first-three any, all-four exact, etc. “Bucko” would go on to tell me that beginning on the day that he spotted the rainbow and for about a week after, he played his parents’ and older brothers’ birthdays. He said he had three “hits.” Yet, I must say, at the time, even as he told me this, I remained skeptical.

However, years later, I too would experience an “incident” that made me feel that there might just be something to the “Lord’s messaging.” At the time, I had entered a Boston Red Sox play-by-play announcing contest. The contest-winner would get to call a portion of a Red Sox vs. St. Louis Cardinals interleague game at Fenway Park on NESN. By this time, I had been selected as one of 50 semi-finalists. That number was soon to be whittled down to five finalists.

In any event, I shall never forget that I was doing some shopping with my wife at a Marshall’s dept. store in a Boston suburb called Bedford. As my wife is looking at sheets and pillow cases near the rear of the store, I’m looking at some of the electronic gadgets near the front. All the sudden, I notice a guy walk in with a St. Louis Cardinals’ baseball cap. I’m immediately thinking about “Bucko’s” “divine messaging.”

At this point, I should mention that over the years I had seen numerous Red Sox caps, but also Boston Braves (they left for Boston for Milwaukee in the early-1950’s), Brooklyn Dodgers, New York Mets and New York Yankees’ caps, but, in all my years, I had never seen anyone wearing a St. Louis Cardinals’ baseball cap.

Shortly after seeing the guy with the Cardinals’ cap, I meet up with my wife. The first words out of mouth were, “I’m going to win the play-by-play announcing contest.” And I did.

Finally, speaking of my wife, I always thought of our meeting and marrying as to have been simply a matter of chance. But after hearing “Bucko’s” preaching, I began to develop another perspective. Was it “divine?” “Was I just “a passenger?” “Was the Almighty’s hand in this right from the beginning?”

What follows is an account of our meeting; you be the judge. Late summer, 1968. I’ve rented a studio apartment just outside Boston’s Kenmore Square. Soon after I move in, two of my Boston “buddies” swing by to see my apartment. Someone suggests we take in the area singles’ bars. We go to two in Kenmore Square: “Lucifer’s and “K-K-K-Katy’s.” I remember we had a drink at each before heading for a third “watering hole” called “Dino’s Lounge.” We had another drink. We’re now on our way to our final stop, a hole-in-the-wall place at the corner of Comm. Ave. and Harvard St. near the Boston-Brookline line. It’s about 8:30.

When we walk in [If we arrive a minute or two earlier, or a minute or two later, I would never have met the woman who would become my wife]. There are two women in front us ordering drinks. I find one of the women [not my wife] extremely attractive.

At this juncture in my life, I’m extremely shy. I’m no “pick-up artist.” I remember the “other” of the two women saying, “Barbara, let’s sit over here as she motions to the rear of the dating bar. I don’t know what came over me. It was totally out of character, but, at that moment, I blurted out, “Barbara.” [If I hadn’t done that, I would have never met my wife]. Barbara and her friend come over to where my friends and I are standing. All the while, my friends couldn’t believe it. Of all the guys, “Walt, the pick-up artist.” No way!

We arrange a “mixer” at my apartment. I’m late for my own party as I’m taking late-afternoon, early-evening courses at a school called Emerson College. When I arrive, the party’s under way. I introduce myself. I then head for the fridge for a cold beer. When I turned around there’s a woman standing in front of me. She introduces herself; she tells me her name is Lee [The woman who would become my wife. If she hadn’t taken it upon herself “to head me off at the pass,” I would have never known her, nor called her]. We talked briefly before we both headed into my living room where most everyone had gathered.

As it turns out, my hopes for dating Barbara never materialized. Every time I called, Barbara she said she “was busy.” That’s when, about a month later, I decided to call Barbara’s roommate, Lee [my future wife]. Our first date was enjoyable; yet I didn’t feel that it was anything special. Lee and I would date, on and off, during the fall of 1968. We were beginning to develop a simpatico. On Valentine's Day, 1969, I asked Lee to be my wife. She accepted. We were married that June. We have been married 53 years.

As I think about my late friend “Bucko -- he died last February – I have often wondered, “Was it just his message, or was there more than that?" Was “Bucko,” indeed, the “Lord’s Messenger”?

[Richie]

Originally Posted by Teach

“Most people aren’t on the same page as the Almighty,” my late friend “Bucko” would oft say. “Bucko” and I were like “peas in a pod.” We were both teachers. “Bucko” taught science; I taught history. We both shared a passion for gambling. Many was the time, as we made our way to Suffolk Downs or to Rockingham Park, or later to Foxwoods and Mohegan Sun, we’d talk about a variety of topics.

One of “Bucko’s” favorites was religion. As I think back, I would have never considered “Bucko” a zealot. Our discussions weren’t so much about Old and New Testament scripture, but more about what “Bucko” liked to call: religious “wave-lengths.” “Bucko’s” favorite comment was: “Most people are not tuned to divine messaging.” He would add, “They miss the Lord’s ‘words.’” He’d continue, “They’re tuned to the “wrong” station.” He’d often finish up by saying, “Most people are so caught up in their own daily lives that they’re oblivious to the subtleties of life.”

“Bucko” would cite, as an example, an incident that involved his parents’ and older brothers’ graves (He was the youngest of five children). “Bucko” would tell me that one summer afternoon he was outside doing “yard-work” when he spotted a rainbow that was situated directly over a cemetery where his family’s burial plot is located.

Before I go on any further, I should mention that “Bucko” was the quintessential “numbers player.” He would buy, on a regular basis, numerous MA lottery number-combinations, e.g., first-three any, all-four exact, etc. “Bucko” would go on to tell me that beginning on the day that he spotted the rainbow and for about a week after, he played his parents’ and older brothers’ birthdays. He said he had three “hits.” Yet, I must say, at the time, even as he told me this, I remained skeptical.

However, years later, I too would experience an “incident” that made me feel that there might just be something to the “Lord’s messaging.” At the time, I had entered a Boston Red Sox play-by-play announcing contest. The contest-winner would get to call a portion of a Red Sox vs. St. Louis Cardinals interleague game at Fenway Park on NESN. By this time, I had been selected as one of 50 semi-finalists. That number was soon to be whittled down to five finalists.

In any event, I shall never forget that I was doing some shopping with my wife at a Marshall’s dept. store in a Boston suburb called Bedford. As my wife is looking at sheets and pillow cases near the rear of the store, I’m looking at some of the electronic gadgets near the front. All the sudden, I notice a guy walk in with a St. Louis Cardinals’ baseball cap. I’m immediately thinking about “Bucko’s” “divine messaging.”

At this point, I should mention that over the years I had seen numerous Red Sox caps, but also Boston Braves (they left for Boston for Milwaukee in the early-1950’s), Brooklyn Dodgers, New York Mets and New York Yankees’ caps, but, in all my years, I had never seen anyone wearing a St. Louis Cardinals’ baseball cap.

Shortly after seeing the guy with the Cardinals’ cap, I meet up with my wife. The first words out of mouth were, “I’m going to win the play-by-play announcing contest.” And I did.

Finally, speaking of my wife, I always thought of our meeting and marrying as to have been simply a matter of chance. But after hearing “Bucko’s” preaching, I began to develop another perspective. Was it “divine?” “Was I just “a passenger?” “Was the Almighty’s hand in this right from the beginning?”

What follows is an account of our meeting; you be the judge. Late summer, 1968. I’ve rented a studio apartment just outside Boston’s Kenmore Square. Soon after I move in, two of my Boston “buddies” swing by to see my apartment. Someone suggests we take in the area singles’ bars. We go to two in Kenmore Square: “Lucifer’s and “K-K-K-Katy’s.” I remember we had a drink at each before heading for a third “watering hole” called “Dino’s Lounge.” We had another drink. We’re now on our way to our final stop, a hole-in-the-wall place at the corner of Comm. Ave. and Harvard St. near the Boston-Brookline line. It’s about 8:30.

When we walk in [If we arrive a minute or two earlier, or a minute or two later, I would never have met the woman who would become my wife]. There are two women in front us ordering drinks. I find one of the women [not my wife] extremely attractive.

At this juncture in my life, I’m extremely shy. I’m no “pick-up artist.” I remember the “other” of the two women saying, “Barbara, let’s sit over here as she motions to the rear of the dating bar. I don’t know what came over me. It was totally out of character, but, at that moment, I blurted out, “Barbara.” [If I hadn’t done that, I would have never met my wife]. Barbara and her friend come over to where my friends and I are standing. All the while, my friends couldn’t believe it. Of all the guys, “Walt, the pick-up artist.” No way!

We arrange a “mixer” at my apartment. I’m late for my own party as I’m taking late-afternoon, early-evening courses at a school called Emerson College. When I arrive, the party’s under way. I introduce myself. I then head for the fridge for a cold beer. When I turned around there’s a woman standing in front of me. She introduces herself; she tells me her name is Lee [The woman who would become my wife. If she hadn’t taken it upon herself “to head me off at the pass,” I would have never known her, nor called her]. We talked briefly before we both headed into my living room where most everyone had gathered.

As it turns out, my hopes for dating Barbara never materialized. Every time I called, Barbara she said she “was busy.” That’s when, about a month later, I decided to call Barbara’s roommate, Lee [my future wife]. Our first date was enjoyable; yet I didn’t feel that it was anything special. Lee and I would date, on and off, during the fall of 1968. We were beginning to develop a simpatico. On Valentine's Day, 1969, I asked Lee to be my wife. She accepted. We were married that June. We have been married 53 years.

As I think about my late friend “Bucko -- he died last February – I have often wondered, “Was it just his message, or was there more than that?" Was “Bucko,” indeed, the “Lord’s Messenger”?

good stuff, thanks