Chapter 38: Summer’s End

Victor entered a bar called ‘The Point.’ It was just on the border of the town where he was the Chief of Police. He took a seat at one end of the bar intending to spend a couple of hours watching what kind of clientele the bar attracted. Even though this was a quiet suburban neighborhood, bars tended to be the source of a major problem -- drunk drivers. The grizzled bartender walked down the bar and asked, “What can I do for you, Chief?”

“Chief?”

“You’re the new police chief. I recognized you from your picture in the newspaper,” the old man answered with a wry grin. He asked, “So, what can I get for you?”

“I’ll take a tonic water,” Victor answered.

“On duty, huh?”

“Yes,” Victor answered. He figured that the old man had seen more than one cop come into his place to check out the action.

“Checking out the clientele?”

“Yes.”

“I figured you’d show up here sometime. Of course, I expected you to visit last week.”

“Sorry I’m late,” Victor said with a laugh.

The bartender walked down to the soda tap and pulled a glass from the rack overhead. After putting a couple of ice cubes in it, he filled it with tonic water. He walked back to where Victor was seated and placed the drink in front of him.

Smiling, he said, “Here’s your gin and tonic without the gin.”

Chuckling, Victor said, “Thanks.”

The bartender leaned against the back counter with his arms crossed over his chest. He said, “You won’t find any drunk drivers leaving here. I take the keys away from them before they get too far gone.”

“That’s good to know,” Victor said despite the fact that he wasn’t going to take the man’s word for it.

Shaking his head, the bartender knew that Victor didn’t believe him. He headed to the other end of the bar to wait for another customer to enter the bar. It was a slow night. As far as he was concerned, that was a good thing. He leaned against the counter and watched the news on the television.

Victor sat in his chair contemplating his drink. For the moment he was the only customer in the bar; a rather surprising situation considering that it was happy hour. He sighed and thought about how life as Chief of Police in suburban America differed from being a detective in the big city. It was a lot more peaceful and the hours were much more regular. He actually made it home most nights for dinner.

It was weird, but his one little conversation with his daughter had changed the nature of their relationship a lot. Amy was a lot more talkative than ever and told him about what was going on in her life. In a way, her openness had made it a lot easier to trust her even though she had a boyfriend. He found that he actually liked the boyfriend and that was very unexpected.

His relationship with his wife had improved as well. She was much more relaxed and loving. They made love almost every night. The fact was, that he was much more relaxed now, and had the time to pay more attention to her. He thought to himself, ‘Life is good.’

Victor’s attention turned to the door when a young man entered the bar. The man was too young to be in a bar. He was about to get up when the bartender gave him a look that suggested that he should mind his own business. Victor sat back and watched. It took him a minute to recognize that it was the young man who sold flowers on the corner.

The young man was carrying a bouquet of flowers. Setting it on the bar, he took a seat and, pounding a fist on the bar, said, “Bartender, I’ll have my regular.”

The grizzled old bartender reached down into a cooler and pulled out a frosted beer mug. Setting it on the bar, he said, “You’re early tonight.”

“That’s right,” the young man said with a smile.

Reaching into the beer cooler, the bartender pulled out a bottle and removed the cap with a bottle opener. After filling the mug, he set the bottle on the bar. From his position, it took Victor a couple of seconds to realize that it was a bottle of root beer. The bartender slid the mug over to the young man and asked, “Who’s watching your corner?”

“I turned the business over to my little brother,” the young man answered. He reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a wad of bills. He counted out three hundred dollars and slid the stack of bills across the bar. Returning the rest of the money to his pants pocket, he said, “Here’s the last payment.”

The bartender picked up the money and counted it; making an authoritative snap each time he transferred the bills from one hand to the other. Satisfied that it was the amount he was expecting, he went over to the cash register and picked up an envelope. He carried it back to the young man and said, “Here’s the title to your car. I signed off on it, and it is yours free and clear.”

“Thanks,” the young man said slipping it into his shirt pocket. It had taken two years of selling flowers on the street corner, but he had finally paid off the car. It felt good.

The old man reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a check. Handing it to the young man, he said, “Here’s every dime you paid me for that car plus a little.”

“What’s this for?”

“You’re going off to college tomorrow. I thought you could use a little extra money,” the grizzled old man answered. He rubbed his face as if uncomfortable with the question.

“I don’t want your money,” the young man said holding up his hands in a gesture of rejection.

“Take it. You’re going to need books and stuff while you’re at school. You just might find a girl there and you’ll want to take her on a real date,” the old man said.

He glanced down the bar and saw that Victor was watching the exchange and nodding his head.

“How about a little advice instead?” the young man asked.

“I’m always willing to give you advice. What kind do you want?”

The young man thought for a second and then asked, “How can I be successful?”

“You already know the answer to that.”

“So tell me anyway. Maybe I don’t know as much as you think I do.”

“Success comes from being in the game for the long haul and knowing where you want to be at the end. You have to take care of the little details without ever over reaching yourself. Consistent small steps taken in the direction you want to go will take you to your destination faster than unplanned large steps,” the grizzled bartender said.

“I didn’t know that.”

The grizzled old man wiped down the bar and, in a gruff voice, said, “Sure you did. You went out to that corner and sold flowers every day regardless of the weather. You smiled and talked nicely to every customer. You made sure that your stock was fresh and attractive. That tells me that you took care of the details. You built up a good sized customer base that allowed you to pay off that car and have some folding money in your pocket. That was your goal and you met it. That’s success, boy.”

The young man nodded and took a sip of his drink. Not only had he paid off the car and had some spending money, he had also socked away a significant amount in his savings account.

He asked, “How can I be happy?”

“That’s a good question. I’d say that happy people are a lot rarer than successful people. It’s hard to believe since achieving happiness is a whole lot less work,” the old man answered.

The young man waited to hear the secret of finding happiness. Allowing the suspense to build, the bartender fixed another frosted mug of root beer and then took a sip of it while considering his answer.

Leaning forward, the young man asked, “So what is the secret?”

Setting the mug down on the counter, the bartender said, “I guess the key to being happy is having the right habit.”

“The right habit?” the young man asked looking surprised. That was the last thing that he expected.

“Yes. Every day you need to take a couple of minutes to appreciate all of the people in your life. I’m talking friends, family, acquaintances, and even those strangers who smile at you and wish you a nice day. Think about them and the little things they do for you that help make your life a little better. If you do that every day, then one morning you’ll wake up and realize that you’re a happy man.”

The young man was quiet while he considered the advice. After a minute he nodded his head and said, “I think you’re right.”

“Do you want any other advice from this old man?”

“I’ll take all you can give,” the young man answered.

“Take care of yourself and those around you. Live the good life and don’t hate anyone,” the old man said. He took a sip of his root beer and looked over at the young man with fondness evident on his face. He added, “Life will throw some curves at you, but if you have a good foundation then you’ll get through the tough times.”

“Good advice.”

“Don’t forget that you have a family that will help you when things get too much for you,” the old man said. He took another sip of his root beer and watched the young man over the rim of the glass.

“Thanks. I’ll remember that,” the young man said realizing that it was getting late and he had a lot of things to do. He drained his root beer and set down the glass. He said, “I’m going to miss you, old man.”

Wanting to deflect the emotions he was feeling, the old man pointed to the bouquet of flowers and, knowing the answer, asked, “Did you bring those flowers for me?”

The young man laughed at the suggestion and grinned at the bartender. Shaking his head, he said, “No, they’re for grandmother.”

“Take your check and give them flowers to your grandmother. I’m sure that you’ve got a thousand things to do before you head off to college in the morning,” the grizzled bartender said in a gruff voice. He knew the young man was going to be busy saying goodbye to his friends and his parents. For the next four years, he was going to be busy putting in place a foundation for the future.

“Thanks,” the young man said. He picked up the check and put it into his pocket. Rather than head towards the door, the young man slipped around the end of the counter. Hugging the old man, he said, “I love you, old man.”

“I love you too, boy. Make us proud,” the old man said. He wiped his eyes and watched as the boy made his way towards the door at the back of the bar. It was only then that Victor realized the bartender lived above the bar.