The Man from Montana

I saw this 1992 film by myself when it came out--
it was a beautiful portrait of life in Montana,
and a young Brad Pitt starred in it, too.

Today, in transit, I met a remarkable man. We had about one hour to talk on the road to our destination.

His name is Tom, he turns 61 tomorrow, he is engaged to be married and he raised his three young daughters on his own [they were ages three, five and seven when he took the reins]. I marvel at him.

Tom grew up in Montana, on a ranch. He had horses: Thunder, Lightning, Spirit and Rain, if I have the names right. I think he said they were painted ponies. He also had two mahogany-colored horses. His one main horse--Spirit, I think--thought he was a dog, Tom said. He tried to follow Tom onto the school bus, and into the house.

The nearest diner was about 45 miles away, and it was a treat to go there. He and his family would usually order fish, flounder maybe, because that was something different for ranchers. There were only 15 people in his high school graduating class. He joined the Marines at 17; his uncles and grandfather had been Marines, too.

Tom knows so much. He recently camped with his love in a pitched tent for a few days in a special spot he loves back home. A spot you ride your horse to. You have to watch out for mountain lions and wolves there; grisly bears, too. But he and his fiancée were okay--they heard the sounds of creatures, but no one dangerous visited. They caught trout. They saw stars.

I was with my Figgy--my Figgy who maybe brought to mind one of his daughters, maybe all three of them. I showed him a painting Figgy did. He thought she should do a children's book, or a book about the process of painting.

You know what, Fig? You can do anything, he told her. The only thing standing in your way is you.

I am so grateful when my path crosses with the path of someone like this, someone who has lived a life I never will, and generously, graciously opens a window onto it. I will likely never live in Montana, or pitch a tent under the stars in a spot mountain lions may visit. [I like to camp, but will probably not camp there.] I won't raise three young girls alone, falling asleep with a book in my hand, as Tom did.

But I will do my best to be a good parent like Tom was and is. And I thank him for being a fine example, for sharing his strength. I gave him my email address and phone number, b/c his stepson is a writer like me, and we figured we could keep in touch. I hope we will somehow. His kindness to me and my Fig really touched me.

Goodness is where you find it--or where it finds you.

Good night.