Fridays with Mac: Check Mate

In last week’s column your scribe wrote about the wondrous weekend in St. Louis officiating and celebrating nephew Nick McIntosh’s wedding to Maddie McGraw. This 66-year-old chap’s still marinating in the memories of Lucy the beagle pet leading the wedding procession; rings being AWOL for a bit; splendid vows and love all around. Magical moments.

There’s another snippet in time from three days in the city once known as the “Gateway to the West.” This particular incident went down on a warm and muggy Sunday morning. The final official wedding activity, a brunch, was complete. Darling wife had went back to our room at the Chase Park Plaza to finalize packing for the return to Denver.

Her hubby had some time to kill and wandered a few blocks from the hotel to a busy commercial area of the Central West End, a bucolic area of St. Louis on the edge of the city’s Forest Park. People watching. It’s a sport enjoyed by this dude who is curious by nature. Especially curious about other humans and what makes them tick.

Anyway, I’m sitting outside at not-yet-open establishment at an outdoor table. Watching the world go by and soaking in the superlative soup of the weekend. It’s mid morning and quiet. I notice a disheveled man walking down the street. Wouldn’t you know it? He plops right down at the same table. With a decade of experience through A Stronger Cord and its mission to serve displaced men and encourage them to build a stronger cord to their families, purpose and communities? I’m drawn to fellas like this or, as one buddy likes to suggest, “Mac, they’re drawn to you.”

Whatever. This much I know. A moment of solitude was broken by an unexpected but welcome guest. After introducing myself, I learned my table mate’s name was Anthony. A native of Las Vegas, Anthony had moved to St. Louis just after the first of the year. The journalist within couldn’t resist probing a bit deeper and getting, as Paul Harvey used to say, “The rest of the story.”

Anthony grew up in a pretty hectic home just off the Vegas strip long ago. When he was in his teens the family headed east and settled in Oklahoma. An entirely different culture in rural Oklahoma compared to the busyness of Vegas. Toothless, Anthony was sharing his story while munching on egg whites a compassionate soul had purchased for the unhoused dude at a nearby Starbucks.

Visiting with Anthony in the shadow of a weekend of abundant affluence was equally rewarding. I learned my newfound buddy, an admitted alcoholic, loved to play chess. In fact, was pretty darn good at it.

“That’s why I picked up and left Oklahoma and moved to St. Louis. I love to play chess. There’s no better place than St. Louis. It’s home to the World Chess Hall of Fame.” This unexpected encounter was turning educational. The Hall of Fame was right down the street. I couldn’t hold back a grin wider than the nearby Mississippi River when hearing Anthony offer he loves to play chess, “Against the best.” St. Louis is known for beer, baseball and…..chess? Who knew?

Then Anthony told me another reason he bundled meager belongings and relocated to St. Louis. “I had never seen the Arch.” Ah yes, the arch. Completed in 1965, it represents the city’s role in the Western expansion of our 19th century country. At? 660-feet tall, it’s America’s tallest man-made monument. It represents courage and perseverance for those who trekked west to forge a new life on the frontier. Gutsy folks.

Sitting there with Anthony and listening to his story made me think of a comment a buddy had made earlier in the week about compassion for our fellow man and women. This Colorado Buff fanatic said something like, “There’s a piece of God in each of us. The mission is to make sure everyone we encounter observes that piece in us.”

Words to live by. Anthony, bless you buddy. May your next move, in chess and life, be successful. The same for all of you. Check Mate.