A Blast From The Past!

I was sitting in the Qantas Club at the airport in Bris Vegas this morning answering some emails when he walked in.  He had with him a very handsome younger man whom I guessed was his son.  I had not spoken to this man for almost 30 years.  The last time I did, I have no real recollection of what I said to him.  I was 19 years of age, and off my face.

I had recently broken up with another famous footballer back in the early 1980's who also played for Australia albeit a different code of football, and I was devastated.  I don't recall where I was when I met him, probably at a nightclub or perhaps a football club somewhere in the inner city of Brisbane.  All I remember is coming to in a taxi with this man.  It was time to get out of the cab, and maybe I wasn't even asleep but in an alcoholic induced blackout.  For those who have had major issues with alcohol throughout their life like I had up until 1995, they will know what I mean by being in a blackout.

For those of you that don't, when an alcoholic or a heavy drinker hits blackout they can remain conscious and functioning but the brain is so damaged and overloaded with alcohol that our memory does not function properly, so we have no recall of what we have said or done whilst intoxicated, and sometimes that's a blessing.  I came back into consciousness many times in my using years in dangerous, strange places, with violent people having no recollection of how I got there or who these people were.

If you are new to my blog, a quick update.  I am now almost 48 years of age and have been clean and sober for almost 15 years now.  I got into emotional and physical recovery back on October 12th, 1995.  I abused drugs and alcohol for 19 years, and come from a background of sexual abuse and domestic violence.  Nowadays, I write, run workshops and give keynote addresses on the subject of Emotional Fitness.   My main focus is on helping those trying to recover a little more self respect and self love with some simple emotional tools as they embark on their journey of recovery. 

I am now on the plane flying to Melbourne as I am scheduled to speak at the M.C.G. tomorrow to around 1000 youth helping them raise their awareness on the subject of  Emotional Fitness.  I have been donating my time to the StepUP Foundation for around 5 years now and over the next few weeks will also be travelling to Geraldton in W.A and Alice Springs on the 2010 Step Up Tour.  If you would like to know more about the amazing work StepUP do feel free to visit their website on www.stepupfoundation.com.au.

But let's get back to the man in the Qantas lounge.  When I came back into consciousness in the back of a taxi in the 1980's I knew who the guy in the cab with me was, because he was a national hero and a very famous footballer.  I however had no recollection of any conversation I had had with him prior to that point, and how we got to be in a taxi together heading out to my house which was a good 40 minute cab fare from the heart of Bris Vegas.

I remember him asking the taxi driver to wait once the car stopped outside of my house.  As he got out of the taxi he walked around to my side and opened the door.  He helped me out of the cab as I was a stumbling wreck.  I had a very steep driveway and extremely high heels on.  He respectfully put his arm around my waist and held onto my elbow escorting me down my sloping driveway.  We stumbled into the garage where the secret key was kept as I fumbled in the early hours of the morning hoping I had been responsible enough to leave the key out.  I had, what a relief.

Once we got to my front door, I remember his kind eyes looking into the same way one would hope a caring older brother would, as he gently said,

"You should be alright now, your home."

I don't recall exactly what I said, but I cringe as I have a feeling I probably tried to persuade him to come in as I slurred my words.

"No Cindy, I have to go, I just wanted to make sure you got home okay, you look after yourself." He said with genuine concern as he jogged back up my driveway to the waiting cab.

I never saw him again after that night.  But remembered in the morning what gentleman he had been, and I cried with a mixture of embarrassment but also relief that men like him existed amongst the football fraternity.

Over the past 30 years I see his face often in the media as he had continued to be a national hero in the football world.  Every time I see him, I think to myself that if I ever bumped into him I would go up and say thank you, as his kindness and the respect he treated me with that night I have never forgotten, it genuinely touched my heart, and was nothing short of impressive.

I was in Melbourne a while back working with celebrity footballers and attended meetings with sports psychologists in the football world about  how my work in the field of Emotional Fitness could be useful.  I wrote a series of workshops for them called Gladiators and Gentlemen that focused on helping improve the emotional wellbeing of some of their "red light" players that were struggling with addictions and childhood trauma.  I always think of this wonderful gentleman when working with footballers in particular, and anytime I hear a harsh generalization that footballers are  an emotionally disconnected breed.

My heart started to pound just a little heavier as he and the younger man searched for a seat and placed their hand luggage down.  I averted my eyes and pretended I did not see him and was busy being very important and unaffected by his celebrity status.   Most other people in the lounge looked over at him, some stared whilst others excitedly whispered to each other.

After a minute or two curiosity got the better of me, so I quickly took a sneak glance over the top of my laptop screen and as I did he was looking directly at me.  I looked back at him and he limmediately looked away, so I did too. 

I wondered if he remembered me, that tragic drunken teenager almost 30 years ago.

I told myself that it was not the right time nor place and I didn't want to look like a dickhead going up to him like some uncool groupie, especially as he was with his son.  So I went back to my emails and waited for my flight to board.  He and his son left the lounge before me so I figured that was that.

I was late boarding my flight as I was having an interesting conversation with one of my Emotional Fitness clients who was working through some personal issues and looking for some feedback.  I got so engrossed in the phone call I had to run to the gate with a full bladder.  The line at the boarding gate was dwindling so I figured I had enough time to do a quick exit wee, as I hate going to the loo on planes.  By the time I returned to the boarding line I was feeling quite flustered and hoped that my window seat had a spare seat next to it so I could spread out with my laptop on two trays with my mouse and type this week's blog to you.

As I looked for my seat hoping that I didn't sit down like I often do in the wrong spot.  My dyslexia sometimes trips me up when I am trying to work out which seat is mine, its embarrassing some times to say the least.  I found my seat and as I looked at the person seated in the aisle seat on my side, in my row, it was the young man who had accompanied the man from my past.  I fumbled past him double checking that my window seat was correct.  He smiled at me and said,

"Oh am I in the wrong seat?"

"No, no, I am just double checking as I often get it wrong" I assured him quietly thinking to myself, my God, let's hope his Father is not going to be seated in the spare middle seat.  My heart started to pound again.  Maybe Mother Nature and Father Time had decided I needed to say thank you and now was the time.

Shit, shit, shit .... was all that came to mind!

As the other passengers walked passed us I kept wondering if his Father was going to board, and if so surely he would be in First Class, and why would he put his son in cattle class with us unfamous folk?  Maybe his Dad was boarding another flight that went earlier?

As the hostess appeared I was relieved that everyone had boarded and his Dad was not coming.  It also meant I had this spare seat to spread out and write to you.

I sat there as we taxied down the runway remembering how lovely his father had been to me.  I guessed this young man was the age of my youngest son, around 22.  I thought to myself how touched I would be in one of my boys was on a flight and a person from my past recognized them as my child.  I would be grateful if they wanted to share with my child a story about my integrity as a younger person.  Truth to be told, my integrity was lacking a great deal as a young substance addled female, so those type of stories would be few and far between.  But I would be pleased with any person from my past who spoke favourably of me to either of my boys, just out of the blue.  As a random act of kindness and generosity of spirit.

This young man had beautiful energy, and was also very handsome like his Dad.  Before I knew it the words were coming out of my mouth straight from my heart without my egos permission.

"Was that your dad with you in the Qantas Lounge earlier?" I asked him respectfully.

"Yeah, yeah, that was my Dad" he smiled and seemed keen to chat.

"Well, I think this is no co-incidence that on a full flight you that I have been seated together with a spare seat between us so we can talk.  You see I have been wanting to say a sincere thank you to your Dad for about 30 years now."

He moved in his seat to face me more and began to smile, nodding for me to continue.

"You see I met your dad when I was a younger woman and he was an absolute gentleman and his kindness and respect touched me deeply.  I promised myself that if the opportunity every arose I would find the courage to go and thank him in person, but I chickened out just now in the Qantas Club." I confessed.

I had his full attention and so went onto relay the story and how his father had been so gentlemanly, and that as his son, he deserved to know who and how his father was, as a younger man.

"Wow, that's amazing, I'm going to tell him and my Mum that I met you.  It is so good to hear what he was like around my age, wow, how cool, what a good guy he was.  You know my Dad lived on the other side of town from where he dropped you home, back then, so he really went out of his way to make sure you got home safe. Hearing that it makes me want to do stuff like that too." He seemed very proud.

"You know people never forget acts of kindness and respect, and as you grow older the people that cross your path now, could well again show up in 30 years time and they will remember how you carried yourself in your younger years."  That is why I donate my time to speak to kids at Step Up because if you can do your best in your teens and twenties to act with integrity and respect for yourself and others, it's a great time to start emotionally respectful habits. I smiled and was so pleased I had summonsed the courage to speak with this delightful young man, who had obviously been parented very well.

"I am so glad you told me that, thank you, wow!" he said again as he shook his head in what seemed like genuine amazement.

"No it is my privilege to tell you as his son, how impressive your dad was as a younger man, so if you could thank him for me, I would be most grateful.  My name is Cynthia Morton, but back in those days I got called Cindy.  He may not even remember me, but I sure remember him and wanted ... no needed, to say thank you".

He smiled again his eyes sparkling with pride.   I excused myself as we were well in the air now, and I wanted to use the spare seat and spread out my laptop and share this lovely heartwarming experience with you.

As I look over the top of my laptop screen at this beautiful young man, now sleeping with his earphones on, I marvel at how small the world is.  My heart feels warm to have shared my story with him.  I would have been disappointed with myself if I had of allowed my ego to dominate and not let my heart speak.  I often marvel at how Mother Nature and Father Time weave the tapestry of people, places and experiences throughout our hearts.  It is truly awesome the way it helps us in our recovery journey through life make amends and clean up the wreckage of our past as we reclaim our birthright to self respect.

This blast from the past this morning was an unexpected but lovely gift.  To be able to say thank you to this Gladiator and Gentleman I met 30 years ago through the eyes of his beautiful son, was such a privilege and a blessing and I wanted to share it with you my dearest reader.

I hope my little trip back down memory lane may prompt you to remember that your acts of kindness and respect touch other people's hearts sometimes forever.   That old Doris Day song that is also a blast from the past comes to mind as I close today's blog.  I know it is quite an uncool song for some but for the uncool like me, it is very cool and warms my heart and fits this story.  Showing love and respect to each other, even strangers is really what the world needs now from us all more than ever.   I will leave you with this tune, I hope you know it...

"What the world needs now, is love, sweet love, it's the only thing that there's just too little of"