Press On

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A while back, a coworker’s husband, Gene – a retired print and newspaper man – asked me to do some typographic work for him. He had several anecdotal quotes, both whimsical and inspirational, that he wanted to produce as gifts for friends and family members. I happily agreed to provide layouts suitable for both framing and bookmarks. The project was put on the back burner as my full-time job was taking up more and more of my free time. But Gene assured me there was no rush on his project.

An unseasonably warm stretch of weather in March of 2012 prompted much outdoor activity from those suffering from “Cabin Fever.” As part of his regular exercise routine, Gene went for a short walk. He did not take his coat or his cell phone, as he did not intend to be gone for very long. He had an early afternoon appointment to get his hair cut.

Early the next morning, my cell phone rang and I recognized the caller as Melody, a former coworker. “Cheryl,” she said, “Gene is missing.” My brain could not immediately comprehend her words. “Wait. What?” I asked, “What do you mean ‘missing’?” Mel explained she saw a brief news item about Gene on the early morning news. With bleary, sleepy eyes, I fumbled with my laptop, searching for any such news. In mere seconds, the “Missing Person” alert appeared on my monitor, confirming it was true. Gene was missing.

News reports indicated Gene had gone for a walk the day before and had not returned home. He was out in the elements overnight. I sent emails to my other colleagues to let them know what was happening and asked for any information they might have had. No one knew any details. “What should we do?” everyone asked.

I called Gene’s wife, Blanche. She told me Gene had missed his barber appointment. The police were searching all over the neighborhood and surrounding areas with helicopters and bloodhounds. Accompanied by friends, her sons were out looking for their father. “We are coming,” I told her.

I should mention here that three months prior to this event, my coworkers and I were part of a massive company downsizing. In the office we were there for each other – like family­ ‑‑ a tight-knit team. This day was no exception. Those of us who were looking for jobs, were now out looking for Gene.

My Mom and I drove to Blanche and Gene’s home, stopping along the way to show a photo of Gene to anyone who was walking along the street. In anticipation of finding him, we had a blanket, some granola bars and apples, and bottled water in the car. We occasionally crossed paths with the official rescue efforts, but took care not to get in the way.

Around mid-day, we gathered with other coworkers at Blanche and Gene’s home for a brief update on the organized search effort before heading out again.

As the afternoon wore on and the sun began to set on the day, the warm spell had broken and the temperature began to drop. I could not ask my Mom to stay out there much longer. As we drove home in silence, prayers intensified to drown out the unspoken fears that began to creep in with the evening shadows. I didn’t want to imagine the anxiety of uncertainty that dear Blanche was facing.

Once at home, I stared out the window, watching the shadows grow longer, praying and thinking. Among my thoughts, it occurred to me that Gene’s typography project was not complete.

Then, the miracle happened. The phone rang. Tina, my former editor was on the line, “Did you hear the news?” She heard from another source that Gene had been found! His son Tom found Gene, covered head to toe in mud, in the nearby woods, suffering from dehydration and hypothermia. He was in pretty bad shape. It was clear Gene would not have lasted another night in the elements. Prayers of praise and thanksgiving were raised.

For Gene, the rest of 2012 was a long, slow road of recovery. At some point, I emailed the first proofs of his project to him, hoping the work might be therapeutic in some way. I thought it might take his mind off his troubles, even if only for a few minutes. This time, the “no rush” order came from me.

Then in mid-January of 2013, a phone call came from Gene, ready to finalize the project we had started months earlier. He had specific tweaks of point sizes, additions of borders and horizontal rules. I could hear the joy in his voice as we “talked shop.” In a matter of minutes, the project was complete. We then chatted briefly about the progression of his health and his golf game. He inquired about my job search, and what I would be studying in school. “You know,” Gene said to me, “This one quote applies to you, too.”

A couple days later, an envelope arrived in the mail with a check, along with a hard copy printout of one of the bookmarks and a hand-written note from Gene, encouraging me to “Press On.”

After everything this lovely gentleman had been through, his simple concern for my own personal struggles touched me deeply. How can anyone NOT be inspired by a positive attitude such as that?

Inspired to “Press On” by the “Mud-Man.”