Mr. Brown

We run across certain people in our lives who make a lasting impact on us. Sometimes this impact can be great and other times it can be small; yet both have significance to us. Those who impact us greatly are usually obvious and have a life-altering influence on us. However, those who have a smaller, yet positive, impact on us aren’t all that obvious, but somewhere within ourselves and our subconscious we realize it.

I met Mr. Brown several years ago at the gym I still work out at. He was in his early 80’s, but a regular at the gym like me. He wasn’t all that stable on his feet, but he made his way around the gym and worked out to the best of his ability. I admired his tenacity and his positive attitude about life. He greeted everyone with a smile and made it a point to ask about their day. He knew you were there to work out, so he wouldn’t linger in conversation, but would spread out the small-talk enough to where he was able to get to know you over time; and vice-versa.

He had some phrases that he would repeat every time you saw him. I’m not sure whether he realized he was doing it or if he simply thought it was funny enough to repeat, ad nauseum.

“Well, I’ve finished working out, now it’s time for the honey do,” was one of his clichéd statements, referring to his wife picking him up from the gym and that it was time for him to do all the things she wanted him to do. They would usually go out to eat first, so he’d follow up with, “We gotta stop and eat at the trough first.”

“Is that your dog?” he would ask as he pointed to the sweat towel you were carrying around. I never understood that one, but it was definitely funny to him because he’d laugh every time he said it.

If you worked out on a machine close to him, he’d always make it point to come over and with a crinkled nose say, “I thought I smelled something.”

He also had a stubborn side that could be both trying and humorous, simultaneously. I guess when you’re in your 80’s you’re going to do whatever you want, however and whenever you want to do it. He, typically, used the machines wrong and with too much weight. You only attempted to help and try to correct him once because he’d give you an evil snarl and keep on doing it the wrong way. He had one specific locker that was his favorite and if you happened to use it, he’d give you that same evil snarl and tell you that you stole his locker. If he wanted to use the machine you were currently on, he’d stand next to you and make fun of how “little” weight you were using until you finished.

I saw him go from using a cane to not using a cane. I also saw him get hurt while using a machine incorrectly, resulting in him being transported by ambulance to the hospital. He was out for a while, but he came back and went right back to it; still using the machines incorrectly. Anyone who tried to help him out got the same evil snarl and never tried to correct him again. He was a regular sight at the gym until a couple of years ago when one day I noticed I hadn’t seen him in a while. When I asked around about him, I learned that he suffered a bad fall and had broken his hip. Shorty after that, news came that his wife had passed. Last week I received word that he had passed on as well. I was out of town on the day of his funeral and was saddened that I had been unable to attend.

He and I often joked with each other and we exchanged pleasantries about our lives and families. Even though he worked out incorrectly, he still worked out. He was an inspiration to keep going and to remain active as long as you possibly can. I’ll never forget Mr. Brown. In some small way, I learned from him and there were certain things I admired about him. Nowadays, regardless of how many people are working out when I go to the gym, it just feels a little emptier knowing that Mr. Brown won’t be wandering around doing things his way ever again.

I remember him often mentioning how good the Lord was and he would also talk about how he cared for the little children with his wife during the 11 o’clock church service every Sunday. According to him, he never smoked or drank. He was a devout Christian (a Baptist), husband, father, grandfather and great-grandfather. He was grateful for his family and for still being granted the gift of life well into his eighties. I don’t believe he feared death because he would often say, “I guess it’s just not my time yet. I must still have some good left to do.”

Well, Mr. Brown must’ve finally taken care of all that ‘good’ he had left to do. And I’m sure he did it his own way; even if he had to share his snarl with a few people.

At least, that’s my opinion.

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