Lloyd E. Meyer, 32°
14610 Garrett Ave., Apt. 306, Apple Valley, MN 55124-8478
Too often, the rush of daily obligations
prevents us from appreciating the beauty of life.
When the hair about your temple turns from silver to pure white,
you have reached a point in life when people tend to disregard
your opinions and ignore your thoughts. So it was on an early
June morning last summer as I stood on my front stoop. It was
the beginning of a beautiful day with blue sky, warm sun, and
singing birds. Spring was bursting out all over. I was so inspired
by the gorgeous morning that I could not resist the temptation,
while on my usual walk, to greet everyone I met with a cheery
"Good morning, it's a beautiful day!"
My first encounter was a high-school girl who came dashing
out her door as if she were in a relay race, a piece of toast
in one hand and a couple of papers in the other, as she headed
for the school bus already at the corner. I'll wager her mother
had urged her over and over to hurry out of the bathroom so
she could have breakfast before leaving. Rushing past me, the
young girl totally ignored my greeting.
Then there was a lady watering her flower garden. I waved to
her, and she sort of half waved back and kept on watering her
roses.
Next, a man who appeared to be a junior executive hurried down
the steps of his home to his car pool already at the curb with
its passengers impatiently waiting. Not one of them had time
to hear me say, "Good morning, it's a beautiful day!"
A young man, looking to me like a high-school senior, also
rushed out of the same house. He was wearing a jersey with the
number 76 on his back. He could be one of the 76 trombone players
with 110 coronets right behind in the school band, or the digits
could represent the number of times he fumbled the ball last
season. He, too, flew right past me without notice of my spirited
greeting.
Then came the postman, shuffling a handful of letters. He glanced
warily at each house as if he expected Dagwood to come dashing
out. He didn't notice me or my friendly hello.
My next encounter was a lady who appeared to be a school teacher
heading for the bus. From the sheaf of papers in her hand and
the tired expression on her face, I suspected she had been up
late grading those papers. She registered no response to my,
"Good morning, it's a beautiful day!"
I next met a woman walking her dog. She smiled, but the dog
took an immediate dislike to me and expressed it with a low
growl. I tried the Bro. Will Rogers, 32°, method of diplomacy
for unfriendly dogs: hold out your hand as if to pet them and
say "nice doggie, nice doggie" while looking for a
rock with the other hand.
After the dog walker, a well-groomed man came briskly down
the walk, attaché case in hand, to a car with the state
emblem on the door and a uniformed officer at the wheel. I am
not sure if the free ride was a political perk or if the officer
was for his protection. Anyway, he did not have time to hear
my, "Good morning!"
As I came around the corner, a man mowing his lawn paused to
wipe perspiration from his brow, quickly putting the kerchief
back in his pocket in order to continue mowing. My final prospect,
who gave the appearance of being a truck driver, did say "Hi,
Buddy" to my greeting, but then hastened back to his task.
Somewhat disappointed, I turned up the walk to my house and
sat down on the stoop. I thought to myself, "Is there no
one in this block willing to pause a moment to hear a white-haired
old man say 'It's a beautiful day'?"
Oh yes, I remember, there was one. As I began my walk, I turned
my eyes to the heavens and said, "Thank You, God, for this
beautiful day." And He had time to listen.
 |
Lloyd E. Meyer
became a Master Mason in Minnehaha Lodge No. 165 in Minneapolis,
Minnesota, in 1955 and a Master of the Royal Secret in the
Valley of Minneapolis in 1959. Brother Lloyd is now 101
years young. |
