It was the winter of 1993, January to be precise, and I was in Mobile, Alabama with my parents, who were attending a business seminar. I always loved these weekend functions. After all, I didn’t have to go to the meetings; I could run around the hotel all day at my parent’s expense. Great gig, huh?

Anyways, I was hanging out with a friend whose parents were also at the function. I can’t remember what hotel it was, and I’m not even going to try and guess, but it was definitely a high-rise. I remember this because of the frequent up-and-down elevator trips.

So we were eating at the hotel restaurant when I notice a lot of young, big guys walking around the lobby area. Turns out that they were all college football players who were in town for the Senior Bowl, which is sort of like the NFL Pro Bowl, but on a college level. The best players in the nation come to this game.

Of course, I was at the impressionable age of 11, so college students were pretty much adults in my estimation. And since I was a college football fan, my friend and I decided to get autographs. So we grabbed a sheet of paper that had the roster of all the players in the game (believe I swiped it off a table, but don’t quote me on that).

We garnered a lot of autographs over the next hour. Didn’t get everyone’s, of course, but my page was stacked with signatures. Bear in mind, all of these players were big time NFL prospects at the time. For instance, I remember getting Jerome Bettis’ autograph, among others. Not sure how significant it would in terms of monetary value, but it would be interesting to take a look at that sheet and see who signed it. Probably in the depths of my parent’s attic somewhere.

So this was an important sheet of paper to me. Once we were through getting autographs, my friend and I decided to resume running around the hotel. As we passed by the elevators, one of them was opening up and the ol’ up-and-down elevator game sounded like fun.

So we rushed into the elevator, but in the process, my signature-ridden sheet of paper slipped from my hand and start floating in the air. It began spiraling to the ground and at the angle it was going, it was actually going to FALL DOWN THE ELEVATOR CRACK!!!

I knew it in my heart that it was gone. Sure, I could have gotten another sheet of paper and asked everyone again to please sign the paper. Yeah, right. Bother all of them again to get an autograph? Besides, even if I did that, most of the players had already left the lobby to go do what college football players do when left unsupervised for a weekend.

Flashes of despair and grief went through my mind as the paper headed toward the crack. It was slow motion. Honestly, what are the odds that a piece of paper would go down the crack? What terrible luck!

Sure enough, the paper was proceeding to go down the elevator shaft. But just when half of it was gone, a hand miraculously intervened and snatched the sheet before it went all the way down. It was one of the college football players. Calmly, he handed me the sheet of paper and went up the elevator with us. I said thank you. He said you’re welcome. I asked him for his autograph.

Turns out that player was Tony McGee, a tight end who played for the Cincinnati Bengals throughout the 90′s. Now, I believe he’s an analyst on an NFL analysis show called Pro Football Plus.

At any rate, this guy went out of his way to make sure that a young kid’s hopes and dreams didn’t slip through the cracks. Maybe that’s being a bit dramatic; a contrived attempt to fit the title into the article. Some people may say, “that’s something anyone would do.” As I see it, kindness is kindness, and it should not be taken for granted.

If you think it’s a good idea to share a good memory, go for it. It makes people feel better. I feel better already.

This is still the case on some sites, but Google has created the handy Google Translator app which allows me to get information on the page without having to figure out what it all means.

However, it has occurred to me that this is only the beginning. It will be within our lifetime that robotic implants will be placed in our bodies that will be able to translate other languages without having to be an expert in linguistics.

People will speak, and we will understand.

Like a sci-fi movie. Is it that hard to fathom? Not necessarily. One reason we love technology is that the convenience it creates in our lives. And understanding everyone in this world would be convenient for everyone. Thus, I believe we will aim to reach that goal.

Perhaps it will bring us to a greater understanding of all the different cultures in this world. I bet Christopher Columbus wished he had Google Translator when he met the natives in the West Indies for the first time.

But then there is the biblical story of the Tower of Babel. The story where the people of this ancient city wanted to build a tower into the heavens. The story was resolved when God caused everyone to speak different languages in order to confuse them. This confusion led to anger, which led to resentment and separation.

So what of the future if we come back full circle? If we all understand each other with implants, Google Translator or whatever the instrument?

Will we unite? Will we realize that we have more in common with each other than differences?

Will we try to ascend to the heavens, or will we separate from each other once more?

I’ve always been excited about the future. Imagining what will happen and how great things will be. I think this can be attributed to my personality as a “starter.” I believe there are three types of people in life: starters, middle-people and finishers.

Over the years, I have clearly learned that I am a starter. It goes to explain why I like writing. I love the concept of taking something out of nothing and solidifying it. It explains why I am always interested in who wrote a song or play, rather than the performers who are singing and acting. Also, why when I used to play video games, I would get so frustrated when my character died for the first time.

You see, being a starter has it’s advantages, such as having visions and creativity. But it has cons as well, such as not completing a project to its fullest or getting too comfortable when things are going well.

This is why starters need middle-people and finishers. Vice Versa.

And this is what got me contemplating about soulmates, and the purpose of having one. So what is a soulmate? Is it a person who will be with you beyond eternity? Someone who’s got an answer to all your problems? I think the truth of the matter is that no one really knows what a soulmate is, they just know who it is.

The someone in their lives they could not live without. Not just romantically or emotionally, but physically as well. People actually die not long after their soulmate passes. They don’t teach that in medical books.

I don’t have the answer. It would probably be presumptuous of me to assume I knew it. After all, never really had a soulmate, never really thought I needed one. But I’ve come to realize that everyone needs one.

Whether it’s your lover, group of friends, family. We’re only on this earth for a short while. Right? And all the people who are in our lives are there for a reason, right? So you got to do what you got to do to make the most out of it, because we only got one shot at life.

Maybe, I’ve come to figure out that we only got one shot, and we should take it with someone by our side, not alone.

Are we ever completely truthful to people?

I realize that this a fairly strong way to start a post, but I went through about ten different beginnings, and this was the only one I thought was was suitable enough. This thought has been seared in my mind for awhile - well, at least for the past two days – and the urge to write this down was exacerbated when I watched Munich earlier this evening.

For those of you who haven’t seen this film, it’s an espionage thriller based on the true story of the Israeli hostage crisis at the 1972 Summer Olympic Games in Munich, and the subsequent actions of the Mossad, Israel’s secret service.

While the very essence of espionage films is “who’s telling the truth?”, what set my thoughts in motion was the opening text, which stated the film was based on true events. But on whose account? Steven Speilberg, who directed the film? He obviously wasn’t around to see all of these things.

The film is an adaptation of the novel Vengeance, written by a Canadian journalist named George Jonas, who I’m pretty sure was not around to see the events of the movie transpire either. His book was based on the alleged accounts of someone who “claimed” to be in the Mossad.

The point that I am arriving at is that the facts – as they are presented in Munich – are circumstantial at best. Undeniably there was a hostage crisis in 1972, and there is documented evidence of the actions of the Mossad following the crisis. But there is no possible way to ascertain that everything that happened in the film is what actually happened.

Ultimately, whether or not the events in Munich are true goes beyond the scope of this post, but it does bring to light something important. The spies in Munich, no matter what faction they operated for, told lies (or at least didn’t tell the truth), because if they did, it would compromise their mission, or, to better configure with the terminology set in this post, their agenda.

But you don’t have to be a secret agent for this fact to be applicable to your life. Everyone has an agenda; being popular, getting ahead at the office, etc. And telling some people, even our friends, the truth could compromise our mission; our agenda.

It is said that the truth sets you free, but our world has a history of political, economical, and religious systems that are packed with lies and deceit, all with the purpose of carrying out an agenda that is supposed to protect us. Protect us from what? Danger? More lies? The truth? The unfortunate result of this is that it has given our society a sense of cynicism.

In spite of all this, though, I do believe that there is Truth, and it is something that I seek after more and more with each passing day. After all, if this world was nothing but lies and deceit, we would all be in a dire situation. I would encourage everyone I know to do likewise. If there is one thing that I have learned, though, it’s much easier to accept a lie than it is the truth.

Peace, my friends.

I simply told him that I did not work for the store, and was intent on carrying about my business. His response was a strange concoction of placidity and indignation…

“Well, %&*@ you, then.”

To say the least, I was fairly stunned. I would hate to have heard his comments if I would have gotten one of those arts and crafts sticks they sell at Michael’s and started beating him with it, all the while calling him a pinata (my thoughts at the time).

10 minutes later…

This may sound silly, but as I was pulling out of the parking lot, the aforementioned incident was still playing in my head. I thought of a thousand quick and witty retorts that could have given me the one up, but, alas, the reality of it was I was waiting at a traffic light, about to give up my faith in humanity (this happens at least twice a week).

My windows were rolled down, like they usually are, so I can take advantage of the nic SoCal breeze, and it was right outside my passenger window that I heard a voice beckoning to me. Puzzled, I glanced that way, and I beheld an elderly gentlemen sitting inside his car. He pointed down the road where I was about to turn and said…

“Be careful, there’s a cop a couple of blocks down, and he’ll pull you over if you go too fast.”

Even more stunned then my previous encounter, I nodded and told him thanks. He nodded back, and then proceeded to go his way, as the light was now green. That was nice thing for him to do; if what he said was true. As I drove down the road, sure enough, there was one of Burbank’s Boys in Blue on his motorcycle on the side of the road. Scanning. Waiting. And anyone who is familiar with the Burbank cops knows that they WILL pull you over.

So I learned many valuable lessons in that 10 minute rollercoaster of events. While some are obvious, one that sticks out in my mind is the next time I throw a party, I’m inviting the old guy in the car and not the guy I saw at Michael’s; unless I need a pinata. Peace.