2024-08-18 23:25:02
Jeffrey “Biff” Bergeron/Summit Daily News
It was raining in the Sierras. The ski season was almost over and the damp weather made the morning better suited for a caffeine buzz and leisurely breakfast than skiing slush. I hate seeing one person occupying a four-top table when a restaurant is crowded; I didn’t want to be that guy. When I saw what appeared to be another tourist looking around for a place to sit I invited him to join me.
He carried a breakfast burrito, as big as my head, a huge piece of coffee cake and a blended drink served in a bucket. I made room for what I assumed would be two or three folks when he murmured, “I’m alone — just hungry.”
My mate and I were on our spring ski/biking trip in the mountains and deserts from Colorado to the Sierras. Ellie was relaxing in our camper, parked on the street, poaching Wi-Fi. I sat inside where the signal was stronger, reading the news. I hoped to troll the web undisturbed, and my table-mate seemed to sense this. Moreover, I assumed that, considering the amount of food, his mouth would be busy.
After about ten minutes of silence, I thought I should at least acknowledge his presence, so I asked the cursory questions of his origins and made some casual observations about the weather and closed with: “By the size of that breakfast, you must have a big day planned.”
My breakfast date admitted that he wouldn’t be skiing but rather, as soon as he finished his feast, he’d be boarding a bus for home.
“I think the tension of this trip has increased my appetite,” he said. “I believe it is called stress eating.” Turned out he was a chaperone for a large group from a Christian high school visiting the mountains for a late season ski vacation.
I made some comment on the challenges of keeping nearly 50 teenagers out of trouble in a ski town, “No wonder you’re stressed.” He agreed, saying, “Christian kids are still kids,” He then said he needed to eat quickly as the group was departing back to home within the hour.
“I hope your group had a good time,” I said. He looked at me as if considering if honesty was warranted, “Well actually it was a difficult week” he said. “We lost one of our kids.”
“For how long?” I asked.
“Forever,” he said, “He fell down a flight of stairs.”
What can you say to that?
I offered my condolences and asked how the other students were taking it. He said amazingly well. Though of course they were devastated, their strong belief that their friend was in a better place brought them comfort.
There is great solace in a belief in an afterlife and a blessing that it can’t be verified or disproved. The last thing I wanted to do was to make this man’s tragedy any more difficult. But figuring I’d never see him again, I decided to pose a serious question; I solicited his permission to do so.
I closed my iPad and said: “I’m not asking what you tell your students, but from one stranger to another: are you utterly certain that the child is in fact in a better place?”
He said he was as sure as he was that he and I were sitting together.
He admitted he once was a skeptic but since he reached his current certainty, he was a happier and more fulfilled person. He added with all the unfairness that this life can dole out — sickness, poverty, war — to those whose only sins are bad luck, location and genetics, that belief gives his life comfort and meaning.
He put down his burrito, wiped his hand on a napkin, looked at me, and said, “How about you?”
I declared that though, with all my heart, I’d love to believe that as he did but, like the apostle Thomas, I have my doubts.
As he got up to leave, he thanked me for allowing him to join me. He added that he hoped one day I would be as convinced as he was.
I envied him and others of his ilk. In my mind, it matters less if what they believed is true, as it does in the comfort that belief provides. But there was no need to put that on the table, so I left it at, “Well” I said, “according to the Righteous Brothers, ‘If there is a rock and roll heaven you know they’ll have a hell of a band.”
My new friend placed the untouched coffee cake in front of me and responded with a beatific smile, “Damn straight.”
Jeffrey Bergeron’s column “Biff America” publishes Mondays in the Summit Daily News. Bergeron has worked in TV and radio for more than 30 years, and his column can be read in several newspapers and magazines. He is the author of “Mind, Body, Soul.” Bergeron arrived in Breckenridge when there was plenty of parking and no stoplights. Contact him at [email protected].
