There was always a quiet calm about Jesse Christopher. He rarely voiced his opinion or spoke out of turn. In truth he had never really felt that he related to adults, he was a man who without effort was completely detached from society. This isn’t to say that he lived the life of a recluse or a silent monk, only to say that he was not affected by the worlds influence. He was in a word satisfied with his life, in a world full of people who were unsatisfied with their marriage and unsatisfied with their meager existence Jesse was different.
Jesse had always worn one peculiar thing, a rubber hat. The kind that a person would wear in a rain storm; the kind of storm that as you stand at the threshold of your door and peer out into the wall of drops that are coming down you take a deep breath that fills your lungs with the scent of rain and as you quickly exhale before you flash out the door in a fury of splashed and blurred yellow coat flying all about in your feverish attempt to arrive at your destination as dry as possible. Yes, his hat, his symbol, his trademark, his security, his yellow rubber hat. People often would stare when Jesse left his house, of course who could blame them; he was a spectacle especially in the summer. With his faded work pants and formerly black suspenders framing his chest only partially shrouded in a dingy muscle shirt that must have fit him at some point, and of course on top of his head was his yellow hat somehow unfaded by time and; still as yellow as the day he bought all those years ago.
Tim was a great man, a helpful man. A man with a concise view on what he believed and strong convictions to back it up. His knowledge reached far beyond that of a normal man and if you were lucky enough to be around to catch a glimpse of his knowledge as he let it slip seamlessly out you were forever, a changed person.
He had the ability to wave a tale that surpassed that of even the greatest writers. He was an honorable man, a God fearing man, a loving and gentle man who loved nothing more than having children gathered at his knees, and to entertain them for hours with tales of Jesus’ miracles. This was where Jesse was most comfortable and felt truly at home, with the children.
And so today as we not only mourn the loss of Jesse, but celebrate his life we can rejoice and take comfort in the fact that he was a believer and an unwavering one that that, buried now in his yellow hat.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Obviously one story is not 52 or the amount of weeks i should have. My life has always been marred by a lack of discipline it whatever ways i can think of. Lately i've been doing a lot better at it and the feeling i get from that is new and different. Inspiration comes from all things and so im going to turn off the tv and go write something in order to try and have a feeling of accomplishment today.
Posted by Jackson at 9:25 AM