It's been quite a few years, but now and then I think back on an older gentleman friend named William. He was in his seventies when I was introduced to him, and he looked every bit his age and maybe a good bit older. He was a small man who walked with a cane. William and his wife Martha, married for over fifty years, had no children, and both devoted their years to educating other people's children, in the public school systems of Pennsylvania. Martha had been his whole life, and he missed her every single day. When she died, William went through a period of grieving that would almost end his time here on earth. When I met him, he had learned to cope quite nicely. He had settled things in his mind, and found that he could talk to Martha each evening before sleep, right after talking to the Lord. Somehow this made life okay, that, and Louis L'Amour paperback novels. I would say William had been reading these western fiction stories for years, evidenced by his bookshelves. He could tell you about each and every one of L'Amour's stories and loved to do so. One time I thumbed through a few pages of one of his beloved books, and kind of wondered what this older gentleman saw in these kinds of stories. They seemed more suited for younger boys, with childlike imaginations, encouraging the reader in adventures of the wild west. William has long ago been reunited with his sweet Martha, in heaven, but now and then something will happen that reminds me of him, and such is the case today. While reading Jan Karon's "A New Song," I came across something Louis L'Amour wrote. Listen to this...."We are finally, all wanderers in search of knowledge. Most of us hold the dream of becoming something better than we are, something larger, richer, in some way more important to the world and ourselves. Too often, the way taken is the wrong way, with too much emphasis on what we want to have, rather than what we wish to become." You know, just maybe, my old friend William may have been on to something in those books he would read. Mr. L'Amour sounds like a mighty smart man.
