"Memories of Mike"

"A kingdom that has once been destroyed can never come again into being; nor can the dead ever be brought back to life…"
Sun-Tzu, “The Art of War”









"I just want to celebrate another day of living.
I just want to celebrate another day of life…
I put my faith in the people, and the people let me down.
So I turn the other way and carry on anyhow…"
Rare Earth, “I Just Want to Celebrate”

When I was living in Florida, I picked up a part time job at a Lowe’s. I worked in the seasonal department selling John Deere tractors, weed eaters, air conditioners and patio furniture to anyone I could. I was actually pretty good. “And how will you be paying for that today Mr. So-and-so” was the killer closing sales line; puts the customer on the spot, you know.

Anyway, my manager, a big bear of a kid named Mike Matlin, twenty-three years young, attending the local junior college, was a great mentor for me. He loved life. He loved people. He was an extraordinary salesman who, I swear, could sell ice cubes to Eskimos, particularly if they were retired or female. I mean he’d spy some retired couple or a single mom and he’d be all over them, smothering them with his charm and jovial personality like a heavy quilt being dropped over their unsuspecting heads, blacking out this sun. He was amazing. He racked up a lot of sales. He was a joy to watch. But the best thing about Mike’s approach was that his customers/victims would always go away satisfied and smiling. He knew what they wanted and never pushed. His approach was all personality based. And, as I often observed, he’d make a friend for life. But, more importantly, from a Lowe’s point of view, he’d recruited yet another repeat customer who’d no longer even consider going to The Home Depot, or as we called them, “Sky Net.”

Now, I was a good twenty years his senior, but we got along like a couple of school kids, always baiting each other, the occasional semi wrestling match in the isle, until “the walking boss”, the floor manager, showed up, where upon we’d laugh at our immature foolishness, only to grapple again once “the walking boss” had turned the corner, shaking his head in disbelief. Or, on the weekends, with our cell phones at the ready, constantly texting each other, arguing over the latest football scores, when there weren’t any customers around, of course. Or, restocking the shelves, usually on a “picker”, a type of forklift, me, wearing my snappy red vest, shoeing customers out of the way, as Mike followed, driving the picker to the appointed impending disaster area, where we’d block it off and then manhandle pressure washers, lawn mowers, whatever, up and down on the picker, with the occasional fake drop or toss, trying to catch the other off guard, laughing, until “the walking boss” showed up, again. In retrospect I think “the walking boss” was jealous. Well, he could have joined in the fun anytime he wanted to. Or, at the end of the day, an hour before store closing, Mike and I facing all the products, moving them all the way forward on the shelves, me, working diligently away, trying not to laugh as Mike joked, constantly retrieving his strategically hidden spit cups as he sucked on his Copenhagen, which if ever questioned by Lowe’s in the future, I’ll deny, as this is most definitely frowned upon by management. Oh well…

So, it was a sad day for me when Mike told me that his National Guard unit had been called up. He was off to Iraq as a squad leader. Well, I wished him luck, said a silent pray and soon began to forget, as we all do, just another temporary friend in and out of my life.

I saw him again eight months later. His unit was rotated back. This was before the military began extending the rotations. He seemed just like his old self, began attending his junior college classes again. I asked if he’d seen any combat and he said “No.” The closest he ever got was when a five-hundred pounder landed fairly close, the shock wave knocking him on his butt.

He stuck around for a few months then he was off again. He’d been asked to train with a Special Forces unit for three months.

Time passed and soon Mike returned with wild stories about the Special Forces guys, small, wiry, really sharp, spoke two to three languages and were stone cold killers. He told me about the time he loaded his guys up into the back of a truck and headed off to set up an ambush. Then, no sooner had he flipped back the flap and began to step down when his entire company was taken out by a couple of these small, wiry guys with a fifty caliber, even before his eyes had a chance to get used to the sunlight. We were both very impressed. He then went on to tell me how he was being recruited by them .They saw real leadership and courage in him, as I did too. He was considering it, and the two-hundred-fifty-thousand dollar signing bonus was nothing to sneeze at. But, he had some time before he needed to make a final decision, so back to his classes and work at Lowe’s.

At first it was great having Mike back. And, I admit, I kind of took pride in bragging to anyone who couldn’t get away from me about Mike and his opportunity. I guess in a way I was kind of like a proud father. My boy, going to be rich and learn how to kill our enemies with his left eye brow. Way cool…

But, then something began to happen. I first noticed it when I saw Mike writing down everything, things that you and I can easily remember for a short time, things like telephone numbers, item numbers, even customer names. I was concerned. So, I asked Mike what was going on. And that’s when my world crashed and learned that Mike’s would never ever be the same again. He was having progressively worse short term memory loss. It was from the concussion of that five-hundred pounder; the five-hundred pounder that had exploded just a little too close to him. It was going to get worse. And there nothing anyone could do about it. “It is what it is,” he’d say.

Mike eventually had to drop out of school and leave Lowe’s. He simply couldn’t function anymore. The last time I saw him, he told me that he was applying for total disability.

And all I could do is ask why…

Now, I will never forget Mike Matlin, even though he probably doesn’t remember me.
So, I quote Sun-Tzu and sing Rare Earth, in memory of Mike...

"A kingdom that has once been destroyed can never come again into being; nor can the dead ever  be brought back to life…"
Sun-Tzu, “The Art of War”

"I just want to celebrate another day of living.
 I just want to celebrate another day of life…
 I put my faith in the people, and the people let me down.
 So I turn the other way and carry on anyhow…"
 Rare Earth, “I Just Want to Celebrate”