The Sad Part

Dear Eugene,

Tonight I recalled something I've been recollecting over the years, bits and pieces, all revolved around the something that I recalled yet again tonight.

It was years ago during my early teen years in Hong Kong, in a church camp of some sort, for youths or for everyone I can't remember, and there was this young leader--how young?  Again I don't know, wasn't old enough to care about facts.  What I am seeing now is what I saw, that in my eyes then he was obviously younger than other church elders in his look and being more accessible to "kids" like me.

I remember his face mostly for his high cheeks bones, deep dark eyes, almost all black with no sclera (is it even possible?), and his mouth moving constantly, all the time, always with a grin like he's sharing with you where he's hiding his treasures.  He prayed like an adult churchgoer, all serious, self-conscious, by-the-number-evangelical, but with a grin like God's love, steadfast and abiding.

I wasn't watching any movie then but he didn't care when the topic for whatever reason came up: he just hit the dirt and ran off at the mouth movie after movie, and I thoroughly enjoyed the ride without knowing why I was on it and where it was heading.  At times he would get too excited, forget about his little audiences (my older brother was there too), talk and walk into his own sunset, but catching the energy from his back end even at a distance was good enough for this boy to enthrall in his grins and passions.

He talked extensively about the "Godfather" trilogy.  What I recalled today was the line I remember this man for: in fact, if everything else I remember about him is my imagination, I know for fact this line was spoken by him, three times in a row for good effect.

"Part III is really sad..."

That's what he said, that Godfather Part III is a really sad movie.  Then he said it again, this time dragging out the word "sad."  Then he went on to articulate and finally once more pronounced the profound sadness of the saga's conclusion.  All three times wearing a grin, as if he was happy that there's something so sad in this world that could speak about the sadness in him.

I didn't know him.

I still don't know the man.  I would imagine he was under 30.  Thick eyeglasses (that probably explains the missing white in his eyes).  He was all alone.

Yours, Alex