I guess I matter ...

Just a couple of weeks ago, I found myself with a half-hour to spare on a dreary Friday afternoon before a scheduled 3 pm meeting.  It was in Yorkville, my least most-favorite part of the city.  Instead of grabbing my ump-teenth java of the day, I thought!  About the old days, 25 years ago --- I have no idea why.

You see, when I arrived in Canada in 1988, I wholesaled CD’s to music stores.  Remember CDs?  Remember music stores?  Sadly there are precious few of either around today! 

Back then, my favorite customer was Harmik Gregorian, owner of Atelier Gregorian.  I called on him weekly in his store on Yorkville Avenue.  He bought my CDs.  A good guy.  He too was a recent immigrant to Canada.  From Armenia.  Both him and I were toughing it out as new immigrants.  We used to grab a coffee.  Commiserate.  Compare notes.  Exchange hints and tips.  And yeah, we used to grumble about our hardships.  Him retailing.  Me wholesaling.  Paid me on time.  I liked him … I’m probably ten years his junior, maybe 15.  As I said – good guy.

Surely in today’s era of disposable everything and everything online, his store would have closed years ago.  Like who buys CD’s now anyway?

So, with 30 minutes on hand, and less than 500 meters from Atelier Gregorian, I thought I’d walk by his store and pay respect to days gone by – surely his store would have been gone.    Some three minutes later, I found myself at the store’s door. 

I ventured in, sniffed the air and smelled the familiar smell of new CD’s.  I heard the refrains of a Beethoven Piano Concerto playing.  I knew that not only is Atelier Gregorian still standing, but it’s thriving.  But I digress. 

Not even three feet in the store, I looked up, and there was Harmik, looking straight at me.  “John Sacke, where the hell have you been,” he said, in his syrupy heavily- accented Armenian patter.  “Wow! – You remember me Harmik?”, I replied. I was disbelieving

He took a step back.  I did a double-take.  “How could I forget you, John Sacke.   You were a kid then and I knew you’d go far.  I liked your attitude.  How are you doing?”  His eyes welled up.  So did mine.  

We talked for the full 30 minutes until I had to go.  Time has passed.  Our friendship remains.  Harmik still runs his store.  From the looks of things, it’s still making money.  He’s grey now, but weathered the past 25 years well.

I’m glad for Harmik and he’s glad for me.  Isn't that what life’s about?