A Tale of Two Johns

Sometimes life doesn't take you down the road that you've always pictured. But, sometimes it takes you to a wonderful place that you've never imagined.

My name is John Anderton and this is my story. It all began on what I thought was the worst day of my life. I was sitting at my parents' kitchen table, talking on the phone to yet another potential employer.

"Yes, I understand," I said, forcing myself to sound cheerful. "Well, thank you for taking the time to speak with me. I hope you have a good day as well. Good bye." I hung up the phone, slammed it on the kitchen table, and let out an angry yell.

I felt like I'd been on a million job interviews since I'd graduated college. What was I doing wrong? I closed my eyes and put my head in my hands. My eyes started to sting with tears as I ran through my life choices. Two years ago, I'd graduated with a BS in Business. I never had anything lower than a 3.4 GPA during the entire four years. My resume must've been somewhat impressive because all these companies kept calling me for interviews.

I imagined my last interview. I remembered myself smiling and shaking the interviewer's hand. I sat across from her hand and gave her answers to questions I'd been asked a million times. Tell me about yourself. What is your greatest strength and weakness? I'd even sent a follow-up email thanking her for taking the time to speak with me. They say that's supposed to make you stand out, but apparently it doesn't!

I sighed as I wiped my face. "I can't do this anymore," I told myself.

As I sat there crying, I remembered each of my dumb interviews. Each time I'd dress up in my same stupid suit and give myself the same useless pep talk right before I'd walk out the door. "You're a smart person and you have all the skills they're looking for. Relax. You got this."

"I'm just wasting my time," I said aloud. "No one wants me." Maybe this is a sign. Maybe I should stop beating my head against the wall and just... give up.

But then what? Is this all I am? Some part-time stock boy at a lame hardware store? Some loser living at his Mommy's and Daddy's house? Is this all I'll ever be? I sighed. My head was throbbing.

"I need some fresh air." I stood up, walked out of the kitchen, and headed towards the front door. "I'm going to the park!" I called to my parents as I walked out the front door. Little did I know that walk would change my life forever.

The warm Sun was shining that day in May. I took a deep breath and smelled the freshly mowed grass. All around me there were couples playing with their kids and people walking their dogs. My headache was gone... but my heartache wasn't. Then, I saw it.

On a nearby bench was a book with the front cover open. Scribbled on it was "for John A." I blinked a few times to make sure I hadn't misread it. I hadn't. No, this can't mean anything. It's just a coincidence... or is it?

I shrugged and sat down on the bench. I spent a few minutes perusing the book. Then, I closed it and glanced at the cover. I realized that this wasn't an ordinary book. It was a little black notebook. It contained journal entries about another man's life, who was also named John A. Should I? I glanced around the park. No one seemed to be searching for it or looking my way. Why not? I turned to the first page and started reading the notebook.

I must've spent the next two hours sitting on the park bench reading it. The Other John's life was amazing! He joined the army right out of high school. I completely forgot where I was as he explained the battles he fought, the bonds he made with his fellow soldiers, and the joy he'd felt when he finally came home to his family for good. After only three years he graduated with a BA in Photography. Soon afterwards, he got his dream job working for a travel magazine. He spent the next thirty years travelling the word, exploring new cultures, discovering the wonders of Mother Nature... and capturing it all with his camera!

Drip! Something wet hit the top of my head and took me out of my trance. I looked around. It was getting dark and starting to rain. I stood up and headed home. Of course I took the notebook with me.

For the next few days I couldn't get the notebook and the Other John off my mind. Here I am working as part-time stock by and living in my childhood bedroom. The Other John had really lived. He was brave enough to follow his passion and had some real stories to tell. I kept imagining what it would be like to meet him. To talk to him.

One day after work, I was lying on my bed trying to calm myself after yet another hard day. "You know," I thought. "You could stop by and return the notebook." The thought had popped into my head a few hundred times. An address was written on the last page of the notebook: 19C Henry Way. I'd driven past Henry Way a million times on my way to work.

I shook my head. "No, that would be too weird... But, what's the worst that could happen?" I stared at the little black notebook and my car keys that were next to it. "Well, why not?" I stood up, grabbed both items, and walked out of the room.

Fifteen minutes later, I was standing in front of the Other John's apartment door. My heart was racing like I was running the New York Marathon. I was tightly gripping the notebook in my left hand. I raised my right fist to knock. Finally, I mustered up my courage and knocked. An old man opened the door. He was about my height, but he was a little hunched over. He had glasses and a head full of gray and white hair.

"Yes?" he asked.

I cleared my throat. Why was it so dry? "Are you the Other J- I mean, are you John A?"

"My name is John Alberts."

Alberts. I finally knew his last name. I handed him the little black notebook. "I think this is yours," I said.

The Other John smiled. He had the kind of smile that lit up his whole face and made him look like a kid again. He took the notebook. "I've been looking all over for this. Come on in." He left the door open and walked back into the apartment.

My heard jumped. I walked inside and closed the door behind me. His home was not as I'd imagined it. His living room was pretty messy. Dirty dishes covered the coffee table in front of his couch. Some clothes were flung over his couch and chairs.

The Other John noticed me staring and laughed. "Sorry about the mess."

"Oh, I don't mind," I said truthfully.

"My father gave me this journal right before I left for the army. Where did you find it?" he asked sitting on the couch.

I sat next to him. "It was on the bench at Montgomery Park."

"Montgomery Park," he said. "That's one of my favorite places to go. Although I don't really get out much. My knees aren't what they used to be. Plus, I'm not as in shape as I used to be when I was your age."

"John, can I tell you something?"

"Oh, call me Jack. And what's your name?"

I laughed a little. "It's John."

Jack laughed. "Small world! Now, what did you want to say?"

I blushed. "I know I probably shouldn't have, but I read your journal. I have to say that you're really amazing. I mean, you've really lived an inspirational life."

Jack chuckled again. "Oh, you don't mean that!"

"No, I do! You've lived so many adventures and you were never afraid to follow your passion. I wish I were more like you."

"Aww. That's sweet of you, kid." Jack paused for a second and frowned. Not angrily, but pensively. "Say, are you looking for a job?"

"Well, I'm working part-time at Jerry's Hardware. But, I am saving for own place."

"I'll make you a deal. I've been looking for someone to help me out a little around here. You stop by two or three times a week to do some cleaning and run a few errands for me and I'll tell you all the stories you want. I'll even pay you ten dollars per hour."

I beamed. "That would be great, Jack! But, you don't have to pay me. Just hearing your stories would be enough."

"No, no. If you're working then you should be paid. It's only fair. Deal?" He stuck out his hand.

I shook it enthusiastically. "Deal!"

The next few months with Jack were awesome. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday I would go to his apartment. Some days I'd tidy up his living room, bedroom, and bathroom. Some days I'd buy his groceries and pick up his medicine. But, everyday he'd tell me about his experiences in the war and the different countries he'd been to. Jack was a fun guy to talk to. Sometimes I'd tell him about myself. I told him about how I'd graduated with a business degree. I also told him about my family. He'd also listen to me vent about my job.

One day, the unthinkable happened. I got a phone call from Jack's daughter saying that he'd passed away in his sleep the night before. Jack was the first person I'd been close to who had died. I'd never experienced such heartache before. The pain I'd felt after I found out that I hadn't gotten that stupid job all those months ago was NOTHING compared to how I felt in that moment.

But one day, I got a call from Jack's lawyer. Jack had left me something and I had to got to the lawyer's office to pick it up. I was surprised that Jack left me something but I was extremely touched at the same time. When I arrived at the office the lawyer sat me down across from his desk, smiled, and handed me an envelope. I opened it and gasped. Two things were inside: a note and a check for $20,000.

I stared at the check for a moment and then read the note. It said:

"Dear John,

Thanks for taking care of me for the last few months. Your company has meant more to me than you will ever know. Now, I want to take care of you. I know it's not much but it should be enough to get you off your feet. Follow your passion, kid. It's your turn.

John."

I read the note a few more times. A tear ran down my cheek.

As I walked out of the lawyer's office, I knew only two things. Firstly, I was going to write a book about Jack. The man had a beautiful soul and he lived an inspirational life. I didn't care about whether or not I'd get rich and famous off of it. The world deserved to know about Jack.

Secondly, I was going to use the $20,000 to start my own business. Deep down, I am a businessman. If the world won't take a chance on me, I'd take a chance on myself. Who knows? I though. I like stories so much that maybe I'll open a bookstore. Stories are what connect people after all.