Pull up a stool and grab a cup of sunshine, while I tell you the story about a philosophical bartender; who changed lives through his simple yet profound words of wisdom.

“In every life there will fall some rain,” Jerry would say, “the rain only comes to wash away the tears from our eyes so we can see the rainbow.” In his matter-of-fact manner, Jerry always knew the right thing to say at the right time.

Each night, when he clocked in at the bar, Jerry knew he had a job to do. Yes, Jerry may have filled patron glasses with scotch and bourbon; tap beer for some, but mostly, he would fill the emptiness that so many had when they walked into his place. And Jerry never let a person leave the bar inebriated. He often had his personal cabby on stand-by just in the event someone wasn’t able to make it home on his own.

Sometimes, near the twilight hour, Jerry could see the lost souls that hung around the bar. Many had come because they had nowhere else to go; while others sat in a silent stupor worrying about the job they had lost, or the love that had gotten away. These weren’t Jerry’s “regulars,” because his regulars would often leave for home just slightly before or after midnight.

With bar towel slung over his left shoulder, Jerry would commonly introduce himself to the lonely patrons. Night after night, Jerry used his gentle but intuitive wisdom and compassion to help his weary customers find peace or resolve in their lives. Sometimes, he borrowed quotes from Einstein and Franklin; other times parables or homegrown intuition.

Every one knew Jerry as “Jolly Jerry” just because he was always so happy and sincere. One of his newest patrons was a middle-aged man, who’d recently been laid off from a local auto manufacturer company. The man’s wife had moved in with her mother, and he was on the verge of losing his home to foreclosure. He walked into Jerry’s bar at about a quarter to two o’clock in the morning. With his head held down, the man appeared to carry the weight of the world upon his shoulders.

Without a word, the man pointed past Jerry’s head at the menu chalkboard for the night’s special, lime margarita. Jerry knew that the man was hurting, but without further adieu, he mixed the margarita and slid it affront of the newcomer. “It’s on the house,” said Jerry with a kind smile. Not wanting to intrude, Jerry backed away from the counter and began wiping down the beer fountain taps. Just then, the man broke the bar’s silence, “I’ve lost everything.” That was Jerry’s opportunity to seize the moment.

Stretching his hand across the counter to the weary man, Jerry said with a big smile on his face, “My name’s Jerry. What’s yours?”

Reluctantly, the man managed a half-grin, “Sam,” he whispered, “just Sam.” Sam grabbed his margarita and drank it down in one gulp. He passed the glass back to Jerry for a refill.

Jerry nodded his head, and began mixing Sam another margarita. Peering down at his watch, he could see that it was nearing closing time. “You know,” Jerry said with his back turned to Sam, “I used to be a very sad man a long time ago.” Hoping that this would spark Sam’s interest, he continued as he mixed Sam’s drink, “I used to have a beautiful young wife and three young boys who loved me very much,” he paused, and turned to hand Sam his margarita. Sam stirred the narrow straw in his drink and by now was wide-eyed, listening to Jerry’s story. Sam asked, “Well?”

Now leaning against the bar counter, Jerry wiped the ledge; then tucked his towel into the side of his apron. “Well,” he continued, “One day, my wife and kids were going to drive out to meet me after I got off of work for dinner at the local Quincy’s,” he stopped for a moment to think, “As usual, I was working longer hours than I should at the plant; but I had a quota to make and time meant money.”

Sam squinted, and took a swallow from his fresh margarita. Intent on hearing the rest of the story, he asked Jerry, “So what happened?”

Jerry continued, “I called my wife and told her to bypass the plant and meet me at eight o’clock in the evening at Quincy’s, which was two hours later than normal,” he paused and took and deep breath, “what happened next would change my life forever,” he added.

Sam took another sip of his margarita. Jerry started where he left off, “My beautiful Misty packed up the kids…” just then a tear rolled down Jerry’s cheek. Wiping the corner of his eye, he looked straight into Sam’s eyes and finished the story, “…and en route to Quincy’s, a drunk driver struck my wife’s car.”

Shaking his head, Sam wearily asked, “Did they make it?”

Jerry softly answered, “No.”

“What happened to the drunk driver?” asked Sam.

“I hated that drunk driver for a long time because he survived. I wanted to kill him with my bare hands. Every time I thought about that reckless maniac, I wanted him to feel the pain and sorrow that I felt,” Jerry continued, “I was a broken man.”

“And?” Sam asked, pushing the margarita to the side.

Jerry took a long, deep breath, “It took 30 years in prison and a lot of meditation to finally forgive that drunk driver for what he had done.”

“You forgave him?” asked Sam.

“Yeah,” Jerry paused, “that drunk driver was me.”

In shock, Sam peered blankly at Jerry, “You bartend now?”

“Yeah, I do. I know it’s shocking, but I’ve never told that story to anyone except you today,” he paused, “every one gets a second chance, Sam - even people like me.”

Sam replied, “How do you do it?”

Jerry said, “Every day when I come into this bar, I remind myself of the loving family I used to have. I try to give back to others so they don’t make the same mistakes I have. I’ve never touched a drop of liquor since, and while I might cater to my customers, I never let them leave this bar intoxicated. Happiness is what we make it. If we choose to lose ourselves in unnecessary things and material circumstance, we’ve already lost our lives.”

At about that time, Sam pulled out a handgun and laid it on the counter. “Here,” he pushed it across the bar at Jerry, “I was going to rob this place tonight, but I’ve got somewhere else to be,” he said.

Jerry wasn’t surprised. He had seen the handle sticking out of Sam’s pocket when he walked into the door. “Where’re you going?” Jerry asked.

Stepping off the bar stool, Sam headed for the exit. But he turned around to answer Jerry, “I’m going to make amends with my wife and get my life back on track,” he paused, “I don’t have 30 years to spend in prison.”

Have you created your own emotional prison in your life? It’s never too late to get a fresh start and achieve greatness in every aspect of your life. Make today the first day of the rest of your life, and live and love it like you never have before.

Until we speak again, I am,
Joan Marie the Gift, Intuition Girl

© Copyright - All Rights Reserved

By Joan Marie the Gift, Intuition Girl

Author's Bio: 

Joan Marie Whelan, an internationally known intuitive specialist, business consultant, medium, and coach travels throughout the United States sharing her gifts and the Manifestation Method with solo-preneurs, professionals, small business owners, and large companies. For more information, please go to: www.joanmariewhelan.com