Monty and Gerry met about 15 years ago while they both worked for United Office Equipment Company. Monty had just graduated from college, and was coming into the company as an assistant warehouse manager. Gerry had already been working for the company for a couple of years, but as a casual laborer. The company had offered Gerry a regular job but Gerry turned them down. He said he would rather work on a day to day basis, that way he wouldn't feel tied down.
What made this friendship so endearing to everyone who witnessed it is the fact that it was so unlikely. Monty is a 37 year old college educated black man whose politics is left of center. Gerry, on the other hand, is a 57 year old Irishman. A Reagan conservative, who may, or may not have finished high school. They don't agree on anything, yet, they have an affection for one another that defies description.
Monty, who is kind of distant toward people by nature, loved Gerry like family, and it was clear that Gerry felt the same way toward him. Vern always felt that Gerry sort of adopted them as the family he didn't have--or, at least, never spoke about.
Gerry lived a hard, but romantic life. He reminded Vern of one of Steinbeck's characters. He seemed to have stepped right out of The Grapes of Wrath--A tall, slim, Irish drifter with handsome, but rugged features. He never stayed in any one place too long. Vern suspected he just didn't want to develop any lasting affections like the one he had stumbled upon with them. For that reason, she suspected, he wasn't above hopping a freight train and traveling to the next state on just a whim. He traveled real light, but he certainly wasn't a bum. If he made eighty dollars working one of his many day-jobs, forty of it would go in the bank. He had helped Monty and Vern out of some really tough spots when they were younger--and wouldn't allow them to pay him back. "I don't lend money to people I care about--I give it to them." He's a unique individual.
"So you're going up to Frisco, uh? Nice town--I spent five years up there one day. Maybe I should have called before I came by."
"Don't be ridiculous, Gerry. We were just going up to the bay area because we have time on our hands, and we didn't have anything else to do."
Just then Vern came from the rear of the house. "I just called the airline and canceled our flight until tomorrow."
Gerry said, "You didn't have to do that for me. I didn't intend to come here and ruin your plans."
"Gerry,” said Vern, "if we had known we were going to see you this weekend, we never would have made them--and besides, we have two months to go any place we like. Now, I'm going to make you some of my famous enchiladas that you use to love so much."
Gerry's eyes followed Vern as she headed for the kitchen. "You're a lucky man, Monty."
"I know. It's almost as though we were made for one another."
Gerry said, "you were."
But Monty didn't hear him, he was already wrapped up in his thoughts of how perfect life had been since he and Vern had been married.
"Gerry,” said Monty, assuming that expression of total seriousness that Gerry had come to know so well, " it's almost like divine intervention. Every since we've been married it seems that our lives have taken on a life of it's own. Even when we do something stupid, it seems to turn out right.
Vern stuck her head out of the kitchen. "You know, Gerry, Monty's right. Take our children, for example. We got married as soon as Monty got out of the service. We were babies ourselves, and didn't know a thing about bringing up kids, and yet, our two kids have been nothing but a joy to us. We haven't had one problem out of either of them."
"Have you ever thought,” said Gerry, "that it just might be divine intervention?".
"There you go,” Monty broke in, "still tryin' to save my soul. Man, you ain't been here ten minutes and you tryin’ slip Pat Robinson through the door. Don't you know by now that you ain't gon' ever sell me on that Moral Majority stuff? Those people are neither moral, nor a majority--their most earnest prayer is that I drown tryin' to swim my way back to Africa--and as much beer as you drink, you must not believe that stuff yourself."
Gerry, fell-out laughing. Monty really had a way with gettin' to the bottom line, but Gerry was determined to get his point across in this decade old debate between them.
"Listen Monty, I'm not a part of any Moral Majority--I don't care for them myself, I've come to agree with you over the years on that issue. But don't you think, organized religion aside, that there just might be some force in the universe that lends a hand to prevent man from destroying himself?"