If you don't know what that is, it's a military medal you're awarded when you're wounded in battle. He was in Vietnam. He was on disability afterward because of his injuries and didn't have to work, so he hung out with us a lot. We called him "Pops". I'm not sure if it was just the 60's that never left him or just his altered mental state since the military, but he was crazy. I mean craaaaaazzzzy. Cray Cray. For instance, once time he did something nuts (can't remember what), and I said, "Pops, you're crazy." He choked and spattered and started screaming and laughing and told me that's the best thing anyone has ever said to him. I couldn't believe nobody had told him that before.
(By the way, he is still alive. I'm writing in past tense because neither of them are a part of my life anymore. Nothing bad, just time and distance. You know.)
Anyway. Pops was a hippie, straight up. From music to philosophy, it was like he never left the 60's. We had The Beatles in common, which was cool. He was simultaneously amazing and terrifying, fun-loving and nasty. He would say the sweetest things to his daughter (my old roommate), but when they fought he was downright violent. Not in actions, but in words. And he was open about his... shall we call it perversion? Lots of talk about past orgies, really anything sex related he was very comfortable talking about. Not super detailed or anything- just enough to slap you awake in the moment. At first it made me uncomfortable but after you get to know him you accept that it's just how he is.
I know that sounds bad- especially if you uphold a high moral standard regarding sex, which I do. I also am not going to pretend that people like that don't have worth or that I'm better than them. He was the father of my good friend, not a peer I was consciously making part of my social circle, and I held a certain respect for him simply for his age and life experience. And believe it or not, I tend to be drawn to crazy people. People who are outliers, who others think are weird. Those kind of people are unashamedly themselves, they hide nothing, and they make me feel like I can be myself. They are the least judgmental kind of people I've ever met. But I digress...
Pops had little nicknames for everyone. I actually don't remember what he called his daughter, but I remember what he called me- Summer Rain. For the longest time I just laughed and went along with it because he was crazy Pops and that's just what he did. Then I went through a rough season and was in need of some encouragement. One day when he stopped by to visit, I asked him why he called me that and yes, I was totally fishing for compliments. Hah!
He said the first time he met me, I had a way about me that was different. I brought a warm, relaxing peace about me, mixed with a happy energy. He said my presence felt like summer rain; cool, refreshing and life-giving. Now Pops saw the good in everyone and other people had special nicknames too. I'm sure if they asked him about their names he would have come up with something equally personal and meaningful because that's how he is. But I still couldn't help feeling so moved by his words, and I've thought about them often since that day.
Cool, refreshing and life-giving. What a compliment. What a wonderful idea to embody, being as refreshing as summer rain... to bring a warm and happy energy into any room I enter. I can't say this is how I always am or how anyone else besides Pops perceives me, but I like to keep it in mind as I journey my life and when I meet new people and do new things. It's a goal of mine, in a way, to live up to that idea as best as I can, with grace. Who knew military-induced insanity could produce life-long encouragement to someone?
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