Let us assume that you have just been challenged to complete a very specific task. That task is to write about a significant unforgettable experience or a significant, unforgettable person. However, it must be a circumstance or person who left an indelible (positive or negative) imprint on your entire life. This requires a thorough description of some event or some person who served as an immediate and powerful life-influencing example. Would you have this type of story right at your fingertips?

When presented with this task my immediate thought would be of my always-loving mother who was a great influence on me every day of my growing years. Or, perhaps it might be a great religious leader or my grandfather who was my male role model. However, these people who were the most important people in my early life do not fit the requirement because, although they were profound, they were regular, ongoing daily influences. Their contact and teachings, which were highly appreciated, were also taken for granted and accepted as a way of daily life. Therefore, that made these experiences the norm and not something overly special to be celebrated.

It is the stepping out of the normal, everyday life experience that determines the significant and unique. We are talking about a true happening. It also requires that the event or the person affected your life in a manner that led to style changes in your personality, which continued through life. This is truly defined as a memorable circumstance.

The idea of personal protection by a special guardian angel or a particular spirit guide (most often a Native American) is a fairly prevalent idea in the United States. We often hear stories of the spirit with the strong muscular hand that comes from nowhere to yank a child from the fire. It might also be the soft whispering voice that tells someone not to drive down that particular street, warning him/her away from some deadly accident to come. This situation that I am writing about has some similarities to the pull you out of hot water guardian angel concept. However, it is absolutely very firmly steeped in true reality and therefore it does not represent or reflect any myth or magical event. Instead, it is just a straightforward and simple story about one affluent person's life-changing influence on another person who is in great need at the time. When one individual freely gives to another and expects no compensation or reward or even a 'thank you' in return this becomes a unique and even an outstanding event. It is especially so in light of our concentration on self instead of giving to others and our ever deteriorating cultural values.

When it comes to discussing the issue of finding one significant person or one significant event there is no question in my mind as to what I would write about. Unfortunately, many people may not even have a circumstance that stands out. I have been very lucky to be a part of a dynamic, emotionally charged and very unusual experience that affected my life significantly.

I have been very privileged to meet many strange, peculiar, often disturbed and atypical, as well as wonderful, even outstanding people in my over seventy years. However, it is clear to me that there is one person so gigantic in his impression and impact on me for one single event that he immediately stands out head and shoulders above anyone else. There is not even any contest in this issue, and, I am very certain that I will never forget my extremely limited, but highly profound experience with him to my dying day. This circumstance made such an impact and created so much insight that it truly stands alone even though I have had a vast repertoire of life experiences.

My young daughter at age five once told me that she pictured her brain as being composed of many shelves. Stored on these shelves were little shoeboxes all carefully labeled and organized. In these boxes she deliberately tucked away and stored her significant life experiences and memories. When she wanted to recall something she just finds the correct box, opens it, looks in and takes out the situation that she is thinking about. If this were to be factual, then the experience that I am writing about would require an extra large shelf and an extra large box or certainly more than one box. The reason for this is that it is so unique and so filled with emotion. It was also filled with the power of love that one man can extend to another man, albeit a stranger, in need. As you will note, there are so many different levels of humanity reflected in this story, which have to be peeled back like an onion so that they can really be fully understood.

Sometimes when we meet very unique people their vision and charismatic countenance makes a highly emotionally charged impact on us. However, when we are back to our usual life, even that individual tends to fade from our memories. No matter how enormous the impact was at the moment, it usually dies from our brain in a relatively short period of time. Interestingly, this man's face and our interaction are as fresh in my mind and in my eyes as if I had just come across him today. The actual physical contact that I had with this man was very brief, actually just a few short hours. However, it was marked by a great deal of emotional intensity and it proved to be life changing and very dramatic. The emotional value of this one interaction is demonstrated by the fact that this one event lasting only a few hours actually influenced the manner and style in which I have lived out my entire life. It has affected me for over fifty years.

The time that we met was in the middle of July 1957. If anything ever does occur by chance or coincidence, then I guess we might conclude that our meeting fell under this banner and was by chance. However, it probably was enhanced by the fact that I was highly preoccupied and not even aware of this man's presence at first. In addition, I did not know who this man was, so I was neither impressed nor intimidated by his reputation. Instead, I was just open for change and very thankful. Not knowing who he was allowed me to just take him at face value as he did with me. We were on the same wavelength pattern, which led to a most significant meeting of the minds as well as an extremely powerful interaction.

I grew up in New York City and lived there up to the age of sixteen when I went away to College. I went to college about three hundred fifty miles away in upstate New York. This was a beautiful small private school approximately forty miles from Buffalo, forty miles from Syracuse and not much further to the Canadian border. By attending a private school instead of New York City College (where I had an academic scholarship) I had bitten off a great deal of responsibility. I was completely in charge of my own life as I had declared myself an emancipated minor at a very young age. I diligently worked at numerous jobs to make money for my tuition, school needs, clothes, supplies and living expenses. It was hard to maintain and juggle all of my studies and jobs and pay all the bills, but I was determined to complete all of the requirements of my life unaided. In fact, my determination was borne from necessity since I really had no other alternative.

The campus was small and all the academic buildings were within walking distance from the dormitory. I had no car so I went back and forth to New York City and back to school after summers and holidays paying for gas riding in other students' cars or on the train. A car was unnecessary on campus and I could not afford one anyway until late in my senior year. However, I had a driver's license so I could shoulder part of the burden of the trip when I drove with someone else. Although the train cost a little more, and took more time, I actually preferred it. There were always many girls from our sister school going home and this led to much closeness, partying, hours of making out or just great fun.

During the summer between my junior and senior year I decided to stay at school and not go back to work in New York City. In the city I lived with various aunts, other relatives and occasionally my mother and stepfather. It was highly beneficial for me to stay at school because I was running a very lucrative laundry on campus on the weekends. During the summer the school was in full swing with all the dorms filled. There was always more laundry to be collected in the summer months than the winter months. In addition I was lucky to have managed to get an excellent construction job for the summer that I did not want to lose. I was doing new construction plumbing and this was a job that not only required basic knowledge but also creativity. I never got tired of not only helping in the design, but also actively building and installing pipe systems. Perhaps it was a measure of genetic influence. My father, who had never even been actually in my life, had been a new construction plumber, both in the military and civilian life as well.

Ordinarily I would have returned to New York and worked at a job in the Grand Central Main Post Office, the garment industry or in the paper district, or in the theater district. I had worked at all of these jobs, done well and I had numerous contacts and promises of future jobs. Instead, I took a summer class two evenings a week in non-parametric statistics for experimental psychology. This was a very hard course and a requirement for my major in psychology. Taking it in the summer allowed me more time for studying and concentration. I also worked hard every day at plumbing construction while collecting and distributing laundry on the weekends. It was well worth the effort and the lack of sleep. It had all come together and I was learning and I was also making far more money than I had imagined. It was an excellent circumstance and all was going well. I was achieving all of my goals with classes and jobs, getting credits and making enough money. Everything in my life was finally falling into place. It was clear that I would make enough money over the summer to cover my tuition and expenses for the whole senior year and I was riding high. I was usually one paycheck behind but this time I would be looking at a whole year where I could coast with regard to jobs. This would allow me to engage in more social interactions as well as studying rather than work so many hours. A perfect way to end my college days, I thought.

One warm and sunny day in July I was shocked when I received a hysterical call from my mother. In between her sobs she told me that my stepfather had suffered a sudden and fatal heart attack. She needed me to come home to New York and take care of his things and the funeral arrangements. My mother, although very young at forty-seven years old was unfortunately bed-bound due to a long struggle of at least five years with stomach cancer. She had many surgeries and treatments, but it was clear that the cancer would win out sometime soon. She was very, very upset and I got the message that I needed to get home to help her as quickly as possible. It was not only my responsibility to follow through for her, but I felt that as a loving son, it was my pleasure to be available. I owed my mother a great deal. Although I did not know it at the time, she too was to die soon. Within the same year I had to arrange five funerals: parents, grandparents and an aunt.

At that point in my life I had only flown once, to go to a psychology conference in Pennsylvania and present a paper on my own research. The psychology department of my school paid for the trip and it was a brief but highly professionally rewarding experience. However, I was clearly a novice at flying and somewhat unsure. It was obvious to me that I had no choice and that I would have to fly since it was less than two hours by plane and at least eight to nine hours by train or car, as well as additional time for the subways. I approached a friend with a car to drive me to Buffalo. It was there that they had a small airport that would allow me to catch a regular shuttle plane to New York City. I was short on cash but I did have just enough to pay for his gas and the airline ticket. I had about two dollars remaining, which I would use for subway trains from Grand Central Station to uptown in Washington Heights in New York City where my mother lived. I had then planned on staying at least through August until school began again in September, and getting a job in the city while I was there.

It was always easy to get temporary city jobs because there was such a constant turnover of workers especially in construction or temporary filing as a postal worker. All that was needed was the will to work hard and not having any specific addictions. All city jobs required a physical examination. This was truly an enormous joke. The physical exam for city jobs consisted of all the applicants lining up against the wall. Entering the room comes a short, broken down, obviously alcoholic, red nosed and skinny little old man who masqueraded as a civil service doctor. He probably received an M.D. degree from some offshore diploma mill. He wore a dingy white rumpled coat over the gravy stained semi-opened tie, baggy pants and wrinkled shirt. He had no stethoscope, tongue depressor, or sphygmomanometer. He had no nurse, no clean office and no latex gloves. I doubt that he had washed his hands in the past two years. He looked down the line and in a wheezy, squeaky voice as loud as he could muster, he would say "Roll up your sleeves and show me your arms." If you had no tracks from regular needle use, and you had breath in your body, you were hired on the spot.

All went well to Buffalo and I made it to the airport on time. I thanked my friend and hurriedly ran for the terminal to get a ticket for the shuttle. I had no fears or trepidation of flying because I was going on an important mission and that was my primary concern. However, I was very upset about my stepfather's sudden death and whatever unhappiness and aggravation it was going to cause to my mother's condition. I do not mind saying that I was also upset and angry that my great plans for the summer were about to go down the drain. I had to notify the school and my two jobs that I would not be coming back until September due to a serious family emergency. It was very painful because I had never reneged on an obligation and I felt that I was doing this at this time. The only way I could excuse myself was to remember that it was not my fault that all this had happened. It was a great deal of emotion to handle and I could tolerate only a little of the stress without letting some of it out. I am sure that I was very tearful and I must have looked upset and miserable.

I had a carry-on sports bag and I boarded the plane, a small shuttle jet propeller driven aircraft with about thirty-six seats. I noted immediately that I was sitting in seat number twelve which is my lucky number. This gave me a certain feeling of comfort, which I welcomed. Superstitiously, I thought that if I was sitting in seat number twelve, I was somehow protected and safe. My birthday is June 12TH (06-12), and I have always felt that these numbers seem to come up frequently in my daily life, more frequently than by chance. I eased myself into seat number twelve next to the window and stowed my bag under my feet. I was neither comfortable nor happy but I thought that it was only going to be for a minimal amount of time and I could bear that.

Sitting next to me, in the aisle seat, was this craggy but youngish looking man, perhaps in his early or mid fifties. He had an almost grandfatherly face, a kind and very warm and appealing smile. He spoke haltingly with a heavy Italian accent. Sitting across the aisle was a younger man who he did not introduce but referred to him as his business partner. The man next to me was dressed in slacks, sport jacket and golf shirt looking very casual and fashionable in clothes that were obviously of good quality. The business partner wore a suit and was somewhat crumpled. When he leaned over the aisle and his unbuttoned jacket fell open, it was obvious to me that he was wearing a shoulder holster with a large bore gun under his left arm and a leather magazine carrier under his right arm. It is funny what one thinks about in certain situations. When I saw the weapon, my first thought was, "This guy is right-handed". Although it was not at all prominently displayed, at no time did he attempt to hide his weapon by buttoning his jacket. I naively jumped to my first assumption, which was that perhaps he was a police officer. It is interesting how much times have changed because I remember that at no time did I think that he was a hijacker or on the wrong side of the law. Somehow he looked very rugged and official which made me believe police first and foremost. They chatted in low voices, mostly in Italian across the aisle from each other. I asked if his associate would like to change seats with me so that they could sit together and talk. He thanked me with a broad smile but denied that it was necessary. He said that this was actually a better arrangement for both of them to be on the aisle. I did not understand that at all but I did not question his decision.

During the flight my seat partner asked me whether I was a student and I could not help but explode my entire story onto him. I was not able to hold anything back and I told him the whole story of how I was going into my senior year and that it had been a financial struggle for me. I told him that I was working at a really good job to pay my expenses for the summer and the next semester and my statistics class and about the phone call from my mother. The man actually seemed to be somewhat shaken by my story and he told me in a very sincere fashion that he hoped that my family would be all right.

Just about then our conversation was interrupted when the pilot came on the loudspeaker with an unexpected and unwanted negative announcement. He said that the weather conditions in New York were bad and the foggy condition was unacceptable and unsafe for a landing. Instead, he informed the passengers that we would have to land at the Newark Airport. Each of us would be free to leave at that time or we could wait for a short time. A bus would be called once we landed to take us from Newark to New York. Once we reached the airport in New York I would be able to take the subway. Now I was really getting upset because with all these delays it would take me many additional hours to get to my mother. I almost broke down but decided that whatever happened I would handle the problem. I had handled situations where I had no money to eat, no place to stay, and where I had to hitchhike many hours in the driving rain and snow. This one would also be traumatic but nothing compared to other events in my life. Whenever I feel anxiety or impending panic or hysteria, which I know would be disabling I always try to think about all those people whom I had seen in mental hospitals. There are some special patients who will always stand out in my memory. I have known people who have struggled with understanding their basic core and fighting against thoughts and ideas, which ran counter to everything, they knew in society. I have known people who have been faced with life and death situations and some brain switch has been thrown which allowed them to be disturbed rather than dead. Whatever my situation, maintaining calm, having good ego strength and a positive mental health outlook are the best things that one could have. I have always been strong psychologically and very much enjoyed living and planning my future even when stressed to the limits. My strong belief is that beyond true love, life itself is the most precious experience of all.

The man next to me asked what my plans were to get to my home with this new obstacle of landing in New Jersey. He smiled broadly when I said that it was going to be a big inconvenience but that I knew that I could and would deal with it and somehow turn things around. I told him that I would probably be waiting for the bus and take the subway from the bus depot in New York. It was obvious to me that he liked my attitude and he almost patted me on the head. He seemed to be the kind of man who pats people on the back and hugs people a lot. He then introduced himself only as Joe. "Everyone calls me Joe or Joey so you can too." He shook my hand with a firm grasp and a great deal of warmth. He had a big hand and his warmth was genuine and reassuring. Joe was quick to allay my fears by offering me a real and unexpected gift. After consultation with his business partner, he said that he would be taking a taxicab to downtown New York rather than waiting for the bus. He informed me very casually that I was welcome to share it with him at his expense. He repeated himself and emphasized that it would be at no cost to me. This was difficult at first to accept. It took me more than a few seconds for the offer to sink in. I was somewhat suspicious at his offer because I grew up in New York City, and as generous and safe a city as it is; you learn early that you never, ever get something for nothing. Rule number one is to watch out for the con. You will get something for nothing only if you are being set up or it is stolen goods. There is no free lunch I reminded myself. I weighed his offer against the very strong possibility of being mugged, raped, killed, brutalized or robbed, etc. Growing up in the part of New York that I came from allows one to develop a number of different special street senses. You learn from body language and environmental circumstances when danger is near. You learn when to move fast and when it is all right to relax and smell the roses. You learn not to fully trust, and to always demonstrate independence. You learn to be achieving and always self sufficient and strong of heart. You learn to believe in and rely on yourself and on people like you. You learn that family is everything and that anyone else is suspect.