Ghosts

I saw a ghost yesterday. A no shit, full body apparition on a job I was working on in a two bedroom apartment in a run-down apartment complex. I was there installing internet service for a very nice Hispanic lady that was doing English to Spanish translations for her cousin who was my actually customer. It was small; two bedrooms one bathroom, maybe 800 square feet. It was full too. Most of the rooms were stacked floor to ceiling, in some places, with things. There were all sorts of things; kid things, adult things, shoes, and junk. I marveled at the mad collection of items that someone thought were important. There was no judgment from me...just a kind of silent awe and wonder at the scene that was lay before me.

I managed to sift through the mass that was most likely a child’s bedroom. If the art and the pictures on the wall were any indicator her name was Estelle and she was probably seven. She had all the usually things I would expect to see in a seven year old girls room…frozen, Disney princesses, and other things of that nature. There was also a 48 inch flat screen complete with Xbox. A sub-woofer, a sound bar, and a hodge-podge of other things that one might associate with a teenage boy or a young man that hasn’t completely come to grips with the fact that he has a wife and children and that his childhood has left him; but I digress…

We were asked by our interpreter if it would be possible to install three video boxes. Yes, three...In a eight hundred square foot apartment with three large televisions. Of course my partner tells her. He wants the upgrade points that would go with such a sale. I’m leaning the other way because I’ve had my fill of this place. It’s hot, I’m sweating and I’m terrified I’m going to knock something over and the whole shithouse is going to come down on top of my head. It’s his call so we decide to run an outlet over the pile of stuff on the bed and through the wall into the closet of the nice woman with all the tattoos who I have previous referred to as our interpreter (yes she lived there as well).

She lets me into her bedroom so I can drill the hole through the drywall…well look at that…a baby. There’s a two-ish year old baby asleep on the bed in a diaper and a t-shirt. She never missed a beat. She opens the closet moves all her shoes out of the way and leaves. So there I am with a Dewalt hammer drill, bell hanger bit, and a confused look on my face. I sure don’t want to wake the baby…I have a baby...I’d knock a guy in the head for waking her up…but there is work to do so I press forward. I slowly, so very slowly press the bit to the drywall and give the trigger the gentlest of pulls. The motor quietly comes to life as I push the button just enough to make the gears turn and for the bit to start cutting…I slowly and very quietly push the bit through the drywall.

It’s hot…why is it so hot? I pull the drill bit from the wall and stand. Out of the corner of my eye I see my partner come up along side of me. He probably needs to see how I’m doing…I turned and moved my lips to speak…”shhh…the baby...” but it isn’t him. I’m looking eye to eye with a brown skin manned with white hair, brown coveralls and a white shirt…his eyes are big and brown like saucer plates…My heart hammered in my chest for two beats and then he was just gone. “I saw you,” I said out loud…”I saw you sir.” The baby never made a sound.

The last job I worked on this afternoon was at a retirement facility. We moved some equipment for a nice lady that was living there and had just moved to another room. Her daughter was very kind to us and went out of her way to make sure that we were able to work with as much ease as possible. That’s something you’re always thankful for in my line of work. Our nice lady was at a celebration that had lots of food and music and all the things that one would expect at such an event. She joined us as we were wrapping up. I covered the usually bullets to make sure that they had what they needed and everyone knew how to work the equipment. As we started to leave, this wonderful old lady starts to tell us about how she raised three kids all by herself and….”oh mamma…you guys better get out of here before she gets going.” We left. I was disappointed. I love a good story. We found our way out…moving silently past people in wheel chairs, people in seats, people looking out windows into nothing. Head down eyes down I kept saying in my head as I walked trying not to make eye contact…until finally we were out the door.

We sat in the van closing out the job. A tall older man starts to make his way toward the van. I cringed inside as telco people do when someone walks up to them randomly…some question forming on their lips; it never ends well. “I know you guys are busy but I was wondering if I might ask a favor…” here it comes “my mother-in-law is in the dementia ward and has pulled all the cable out of her equipment. She’s done quite a job and I can’t figure out how to put it all back together.” I can feel my partner’s eyes burning into me…”of course,” I said. I follow the man back into the facility and into his mother’s room.  She sat there, looking perfectly normal…talking with her daughter-in-law, not even throwing a glance my way. I quickly get things back together. I show him how it all goes just in case something like this happens again (I get the feeling it happens all the time). He thanks me profusely on the way out and tries to press a twenty dollar bill into my hand…”no sir, I can’t take that…it’s not a good deed if you pay me for it.” He starts to insist but I shake my head, shake his hand and tell him “it’s going to be ok.” He smiled a weary smile at me, thanked me again and went back to his mother.

I am reminded again of the shortness of this life. It is precious and not to be spent frivolously. The foundation of my faith is built on the teachings of a man from Galilee…and Nazarene as the story goes. Someone that taught that it was better to give then to receive and that I should treat my neighbor as I would myself. Simple stuff really. Unfortunately I don’t live those teachings every day. I try. Some days I get it right and some days I don’t. I move in a world that gives me access to people at their most personal…their most vulnerable. I see them at the beginning of their lives, the middle, the end, and sometimes the after. I see the towers they build for themselves, the things they acquire, and the loneliness those things bring.

My sweet nurse told me one time that when you put the blue gown on, everyone is the same. It doesn’t matter who you are or who you were. The blue gown doesn’t care if you’re rich, poor, or some place in the middle. The blue gown is the last thing you wear when you take your last breath. It just doesn’t care, it’s blue and it’s just for you. Stuff doesn’t matter. People matter. Be good to one another and live well.

(the story about the ghost is true just in case you were wondering)

FIN