An Early Mentor

I was around 10 years old and rather naive. My father owned a delicatesson on the main square in a suburb of Cincinnati, Ohio. A few doors down from the delicatesson was a movie theatre and my father was friends with the manager, Mr. Corbus, a tall, mustached, balding man of 50 or 60. I remember some of the movie titles appearing on the marqee. To Hell and Back, East Of Eden, Rebel Without A Cause, Giant, The King And I, Jailhouse Rock. From time to time, we would get free passes to the movies, or get to visit in the manager's office above the theatre with its own view window into the theatre, or get to see the projection booth. It was like getting to see the man behind the curtain - darkest mysteries revealed.

At some point during this period I obtained an autograph book, probably from my father, for the purpose of getting the autographs of Cincinnati Reds players we met during a catering delivery to one of their houses. Whether it was a Cub Scout project, or just a sudden whim, the book was now available and one of the next times we were in Mr. Corbus's company I asked him if he would sign my autograph book. Obligingly, he took the book, penned his offering, and handed its proud recipient the resultant entry. Since I was not aware of the tradition of offering a dedication or commentary as part of the signing ritual my reaction was understandably curious when, book in hand, I read the following inscription.





My admiration of this dubious event, and its spontaneous brilliance, were lost on a ten year old boy struggling to come to terms with the larger much less subtle issues of youth. I remember questioning, but not understanding whatever explanation, if any, was offered and life went on - and on. In fact I haven't really thought of that incident or placed any importance to it until recently. The delicatesson, the autograph book, Mr. Corbus, my parents, all gone, yet so many years later the experience and its significance comes roaring down the track like an old freight train with overdue cargo.

We are, at times, given gifts of undeterminable value we may not deserve for reasons we may never know. That's one of life's glorious mysteries. If we're lucky, we stumble across them from time to time. I'm sure if there is another dimension with an awareness of ours, Mr. Corbus would appreciate that his clever timeless riddle, though still not fully decoded, has at least been recognized for its appreciating value.

Who knows how many other gems are out there ? Let's hope that while humankind continues its quest for life's greatest answers we don't overlook the gems beneath our feet.

Thank you Mr. Corbus - you are indeed !