The People You Meet In Bars

Several nights ago, I found myself out with some friends at a nice little drinking establishment. There was an older gentleman at the bar. He motioned to the bartender and told the bartender to buy us a round. Completely unexpected since none of us knew him. He did make one request, that we would put our cell phones away. Well, if someone is buying you a drink, you tend not to argue with the sponsor of your drink.

A short while later, he came over and introduced himself. His name was Gio. Gio went on to say that he was a bartender, and had been for some time, and that one thing that really annoyed him was people coming into a bar as a group and all of them playing with their phones. "When you come into a bar, you're suppose to talk to people", Gio said. "You're there to socialize, not ignore everyone."

I could also tell that Gio was a little intoxicated, but that really didn't bother me. We kept talking. I found out a bit of his life story. Gio had grown up in Chicago; his mother was an immigrant from Ireland. When I had mentioned that I had lived in Chicago for a few years, he became very excited. We talked about Chicago and Chicago politics. We talked about his growing up in Chicago and his love of the Cubs and the Blackhawks. We talked about life in this modern world. We talked about how young people today show no respect to others, that they would rather tune out the world listening to their iPods than actually talk to one another and see and hear the world.

Gio talked about the civil rights movement growing up in Chicago. You could see in his eyes that he was playing back those memories. He was happy that I knew about that time. He talked about being a Roman Catholic and how he still attends Mass.

Gio talked about going to visit his mother soon. I didn't ask, but if I had to guess, she was probably in her 80's. He said he would be gone for a month. At first, I didn't quite understand where he was going. I thought it was back to Chicago. I asked again where he was going to see his mother. He replied with a gleam in his eye, "Ireland." He went on to tell me about how he was happy to be going there. How to get to where his mother lived was a two day trip. Day one was flying to Ireland and driving to a long time family friend's place. He would stay overnight with his friend and the next day take the ferry to the island where his mother lived.

The hour got late, my friends had been long gone, and I had finished my drink. I wished him safe journeys.

As I left the bar and headed towards the door I looked back. Gio was sitting there with a smile on his face. I think he was happy that he had a night of being able to talk to someone and tell his story. While most would have dismissed him as an old drunk and would have stopped talking long ago, someone actually listened to him.

Sometimes living out one's Christian vocation is as simple as sharing a drink and letting someone talk.

I don't know if our paths will ever cross again. I do know that both of us parted ways with one of us feeling a bit younger and the other feeling a bit older. It was worth putting down my phone and listening.

I will end this with a bit of wisdom that Gio shared with me:

As the dyslexic theologian once said, "I believe that there is a dog."