Mr. Cool

In the beginning, I noticed him only on occasion when I rode my bike past the guard booth near the entrance gate to the Ministry of Education late in the evening. It wasn’t until the night of Georgia’s birthday party that we had the chance to meet formally. He showed up close to eleven PM in his work clothes, his black shoes as shiny as Orion’s belt.  Word had gotten around that Georgia had made a huge pot of conch soup available at the celebration … and he was one of the first in line.

 

I could tell he had left his guard post in haste just to give her his best wishes and to take advantage of the minute to dine out �" his empty bowl in his left hand waiting its turn at the tasty potage while it lasted. He glanced at his watch at least three times within a span of five minutes, obviously anxious to gather his refection and return to his night watchman duties. He wasn’t openly sociable and it appeared to me he had something on his mind. In fact, every time I saw him he seemed to be rather somber, pensive �" absolutely always scratching his head and the back of his neck. Yes. He definitely was a thinker and I silently wondered if his head held an abundance of trepidations to ponder.  

 

In my brief encounters with him he was not a man of many words, but I don’t think he was extraordinarily shy �" just reserved. What caught my attention was his demeanor. Plus, he possessed one of the softest handshakes I had ever felt.

His large brown eyes took subtle opportunities to exude fancies of kindness that very few might notice, but his friends and family knew he was exactly that �" charitable and considerate. Not only did he hold on to a sense of dignity but he was gentle �" surely practiced at offering up his portion of the conch soup to anyone nearby more in need than he. 

 

I could not help but wonder if there was a member of the opposite gender that might be answerable to what I perceived to be constant discomfort. This was just my assumption as his mannerisms and perpetual, absorbed passivity reminded me somewhat of someone extremely close to me.  The community loved him. And given his rather serene nature, they had to know him quite well for the good man that he was. Apparently my perception of him was not far off the mark. He was an experienced security officer having served in corrections facilities for decades �" and he was revered by all whom he touched; good people as well as the disgusting.

 

He had been suffering from hypertension and the malaise’s ensuing headaches for quite a while, but he neither advised nor confided in a soul - a silent killer if there ever was one. He had just turned 50 when the aneurism hit. It was too late to keep him in this world. I pitied the woman who was at least partially answerable for his demise and untimely death.

 

Now he is gone. With him he took the ear that many could rely on to attend to their distresses or secrets. He was an amazingly empathetic, calm and good natured gentleman. And �" he always kept his cool. Most all of us could use him as an encouraging example. I never knew his real name. He was just Mr. Cool to the whole world and also to me. And that is how I will remember him. Rest in Peace Mr. Cool.  While Belize will miss you we know you are starting off the New Year in the most glorious of places.  And surely your head hurts no more.