Tuesday morning, as a swirling snow fell, I drove over to Minneapolis. My destination was the University of Minnesota Hospital, specifically the emergency room. Duty called. The husband of a member was gravely ill.
When I arrived on campus, I immediately made my way to the parking ramp adjacent to the hospital. I was happy to find a spot on the third level. (A week earlier, I had gone all the way to the roof of the ramp - twice - without any luck.) After parking my Jeep, I made my way to the elevator. That’s when it started.
There were just two of us in the confined space. My companion was a man about my age, just a tad bit shorter than me.
The stranger said that he liked my cross necklace. He asked if I was a Catholic priest. “No, I’m a Lutheran pastor,” I told him.
I noticed that he was wearing a necklace of his own. It appeared to include a cross as well, but he quickly corrected me. It was actually a small golden key dangling from his chain. My acquaintance added that it was the key to Valhalla. Now that’s something that you don’t hear every day. So began a memorable conversation.
As we rode the elevator down to the tunnel level, my traveling companion said that he was a pure Viking, mostly of Swedish descent. I countered that I was 100% American, of mongrel ancestry.
As we walked the football field length tunnel under the street to the hospital, our conversation continued. Each of us shared a little bit more about our respective ethnic make up. As we neared the elevator leading up to the hospital, my friend shared that he was a married to a Korean, adding that Korean women are the most beautiful in the world. I bit my tongue. (I’m partial to a certain Dutch girl myself.)
As we got on the elevator, my walking partner shared that both he and his wife were Jewish.
To be honest, if the conversation had taken place the day before - April 1 - I would have thought that I was being pranked.
Moments later, we reached the hospital. As we approached the check-in desk, he asked my name. “Brian,” I replied. I think I asked for his in return, but it didn’t stick. My thoughts were turning to the emergency room, and my waiting patient.
Before we parted company, my companion said, “God bless you.”
I wish that I had said it back.
Our moms are now together again.Sorry for your loss.
Everyone has a story. Some stories are never shared, some people are never met, so we lose a little bit of humanity. Thank you for sharing your story.