DR. BALLANTYNE'S ATRIUM

I smiled broadly when Mrs. Ballantyne finished her remarkable story about Sam Maceo, the Godfather of Galveston.

"That was an amazing tale, Mrs. Ballantyne."

She smiled and nodded in agreement.  Looking around the living room, she commented, "Yes, I have truly been blessed.  My house is empty now, but over the years this home has been quite the beehive of activity.  My home was constantly filled with my children's friends, with my husband's friends from work and so many people from St. John's. 

When George would come over with Cynthia plus their ten children and my seven children, this place was so packed!  People from all over the world have visited and stayed with the family at various times.   Things are much quieter now that the children are grown, but I love to come in here and relive the memories.  By the way, did you know I have grandchildren now?" 

Just then her husband Jay appeared.  He had a worried look on his face, so Mrs. Ballantyne got up to see what the problem was. 

When Mrs. Ballantyne's husband made a surprise appearance, I could tell something was wrong.  Dr. Ballantyne had a huge frown on his face and he seemed very upset.  Mrs. Ballantyne immediately got up from her chair to see what was bothering him.

I watched quietly as Dr. Ballantyne and his wife talked over by the kitchen.  To my surprise, Mrs. Ballantyne turned to glance at me, then pointed me out.  For the first time, Dr. Ballantyne noticed me as well.  What was this all about?  Something odd was going on.

Mrs. Ballantyne came back with a worried look on her face.  "Rick, could I ask you a big favor?"

"Sure.  What do you need?"

"There is a cold front coming into town this evening.  Temperatures are expected to hit the low 20s.  Jay is worried that the freeze could easily destroy his tropical plant collection.  He has been up on the roof all day trying to cover our open-air atrium with plastic for protection, but he is getting nowhere because it is a two-man job and the strong wind is driving him crazy.  He is really worried he can't get the job done in time to save his plants.  Do you by chance have an hour to spare?"

I smiled.  "Of course.  I'm not busy.  I would be glad to help."

So up on the roof I went.  Brrr!!  I had forgotten how cold it was.  Not only was it ridiculously cold, the brisk wind was brutal.  I could see what Dr. Ballantyne was worried about.  Dr. Ballantyne had an open-air atrium adjacent to the living room.  The atrium was home to a veritable jungle of warm-weather tropical plants.  Without cover, they were totally vulnerable to the coming threat.  The moment the freeze arrived later tonight, his plants would have no chance without protection.  It would be such a shame to lose this teeming rain forest. 

Dr. Ballantyne's atrium was 30 by 15 feet.  Open to the sky to permit sunlight, it was framed by the house on three sides.  The fourth side of the atrium was open to the nearby swimming pool.  The gap between the two parallel sides was 15 feet across.  In order to stretch the flapping plastic in the heavy wind, one man had to secure his part of the plastic on one side while the other man walked his part to the other side of the roof.  Once the plastic was properly stretched, we could hammer it in.

Dr. Ballantyne was not satisfied with just one layer.  He did not feel the individual rolls of plastic were thick enough to guarantee sufficient protection against the cold, so we repeated the process three times.

Our final step was to place a sturdy 16 foot wood beam across the roof at the open end.  From there we went back to the ground.  Using a ladder, we hung plastic from the wood beam on the roof down to the ground.  Once the plastic touched the ground, the open side of the house facing the swimming pool was completely enclosed.   As the day progressed, I was amused by the transformation in Dr. Ballantyne's features.  Slowly but surely, his deep frown was replaced by a greatly-relieved smile.  I had spent the afternoon noting the beauty of his tropical plants.  I could understand why his collection was such a source of pride to him.

We were on the roof for a good three hours.  Dr. Ballantyne and I spoke little during the project.  Unlike his gregarious wife, Dr. Ballantyne was a man of few words.  He was a reserved, rather formal man who carried himself with great dignity.  Dr. Ballantyne was quite the workhorse.  Unwilling to take any chance of losing his valuable plants, he refused to take a break until the job was done.  It was a good idea to avoid breaks because we finished not a minute too soon.  As darkness rolled in, the temperature began dropping rapidly just as predicted.  It was freezing out there!  Dr. Ballantyne had been wise to cover the open area or he would have lost every one of those plants.  I watched as Dr. Ballantyne used an extension cord to place a space heater in the midst of his temporary greenhouse.  He glanced at me and smiled, "The heater is an extra precaution.  I would be crushed if I lost a single plant."  I grinned.  That was his longest sentence of the day. 

Just then Mrs. Ballantyne appeared in the atrium to hand us cups of much-welcome hot chocolate.  Looking around, Mrs. Ballantyne commented to her husband, "Good job, honey!  I think your plants will do just fine in here."

Dr. Ballantyne nodded, then turned to me.  Shaking my hand, he said, "I want to thank you for your help, Rick.  I could not have done this by myself."

I smiled and said I was glad to help.  I gave Mrs. Ballantyne a huge hug and said it was time to go.

Mrs. Ballantyne was beaming at me.  "I really enjoyed seeing you again.  And you were wonderful to help.  Don't be a stranger!!"

PAY IT FORWARD AND RETURN A FAVOR

For the past ten years, it had upset me to know I could never repay Mrs. Ballantyne for what she had done for me in 1968.  Fortunately, I could definitely 'Pay it Forward'.  This is a beautiful concept that suggests if we cannot repay a great favor to the person who helped us, then turn around and do the same thing for someone else who needs help.  I had once used Mrs. Ballantyne's same words to help a young teenager find the will to deal with her mother's imminent death from cancer. 

After working on the roof, I was pleased with my good deed as I drove home.  I felt like the little Dutch boy who came along at the most opportune moment to plug the dike. 

While I was helping Dr. Ballantyne, I had a lot of time to think.  I thought it was strange that in a family of seven grown children, not one of them was anywhere in sight today to pitch in.  Nor did anyone drop by with the job in progress.  What were the odds of that happening?  Not that I minded.  This had been a fascinating visit.  I learned invaluable details about Mr. Salls and Mrs. Ballantyne and fulfilled a childhood wish of becoming a Ballantyne for a day.  It was an honor I cherished. 

Another thing I thought about was the nature of Karma.  I could not help but wonder if this opportunity to assist the doctor had been Karma in action.  Ten years ago Mrs. Ballantyne had appeared out of nowhere at a time when I greatly needed her help.  Today I had 'accidentally' appeared at the exact moment when her husband needed my help.  The coincidence was just too great to ignore.

This entire day had turned out to be a meditation on the concept of Kindness.  Kindness can be paid forward, but it is even more satisfying when you can give it back.  Previously I had taken Mrs. Ballantyne's kindness and paid it forward to Vicky.  Now I had been given a chance to repay my debt directly.  It was no problem to help Dr. Ballantyne and my effort had meant the world to him.  Behold the power of a Simple Act of Kindness.

I smiled.  The Karma was balanced.  Well, maybe not completely, but close enough. 

Dr. Ballantyne was right... he could not have done this job without me.  It was so very very fortunate that I just happened to cross Mrs. Ballantyne's path on a day when I was free to help.  Coincidence?  Maybe.  Maybe not.  But you know me... I decided this unusual day had been a Supernatural Event.  In fact, there was not a shred of doubt in my mind about it.  I felt like I had been summoned by the Cosmic Social Director to lend a hand to Dr. Ballantyne. 

If it is true that Fate exists... and of course I believe it does... I believe that Mrs. Ballantyne was meant to teach me the meaning of Kindness.  In so doing, she passed her legacy on to me.  I would spend my entire life trying my best to be worthy of this honor. 

All told, I sat down with Mrs. Ballantyne on seven different occasions.  27 years would pass before our next meeting.  In 2005, I wrote a story about my 1968 meeting with Mrs. Ballantyne in the grocery store parking lot.  I published it on my dance studio website.  I did not know it at the time, but that article I wrote had planted the seeds for my first book.  Touching upon the theme of Kindness, I received many emails thanking me for sharing that story.

One day out of the blue, I got a phone call from Mrs. Ballantyne.  As usual, my pulse began to race.  Another weird coincidence?  No, not this time.  It turned out that one of her granddaughters had 'googled' her name on the Internet.  When my story popped up, the granddaughter wasted no time telling her grandmother about it.  Mrs. Ballantyne was so touched by my story that she wanted to see me.  I met with Mrs. Ballantyne and her lovely daughter Katina for lunch a few days later.  As usual, I did not get a single question answered, but I did get the chance to see her again and be fascinated by more of her stories.

Yasmine and Christie Ballantyne
 

My fourth meeting took place in 2009.  Dr. Christie Ballantyne and his lovely wife Yasmine had been taking Swing dance lessons from me.  Christie had dropped by his mother's house for a visit late one afternoon.  When Mrs. Ballantyne heard her son mention he had a dance lesson with me in an hour, on the spur of the moment she asked if she could tag along.  Christie said of course.  "Hop in the car, Mom!"

Naturally I was delighted to see my surprise guest.  Although Mrs. Ballantyne was 89 now, I was pleased to note her mind was as sharp as ever.  She moved well too.  I was impressed. The lady was indestructible.  Mrs. Ballantyne was still sassy... she immediately chewed me out... "Rick Archer, where have you been?  Why haven't you been to see me!?  You made me come all this way just so I could see you again!" 

I grinned and gave her a big hug.  Mrs. Ballantyne had to be the most engaging woman I have ever met in my life.  She was such a character.  Never a dull moment around her.  I found a comfortable place on a nearby couch for Mrs. Ballantyne to sit.  Then for the next 45 minutes I helped Christie and Yasmine work on their Swing dancing. 

As I taught, every now and then I would glance over at my important guest.  Mrs. Ballantyne never took her eye off of us.  She watched our dance lesson intently with that constant bemused smile of hers.  No doubt the lesson brought back memories from her days of Swing dancing with her husband Jay during World War II.

Towards the end of the lesson, I was dying to talk with Mrs. Ballantyne.  So I decided to cut the lesson a little short.  I put on some Swing dance music and told Christie and Yasmine to practice on their own while I went to greet my guest.  Christie nodded; he understood. 

I made a beeline over to Mrs. Ballantyne.  She quickly took my hand in hers and told me how happy she was to see me.  The feeling was definitely mutual.  I really cared about this lady.  As usual, Mrs. Ballantyne had a surprise for me.  She always had a surprise for me.  I swear the woman had special powers.   Mrs. Ballantyne said I had been on her mind lately.

Mrs. Ballantyne said she still remembered the day when she asked her friend Charlie what he knew about me.  My ears perked up.  "Her friend Charlie...??"   A tingling sensation came over me.  Mrs. Ballantyne had not mentioned Mr. Salls back in 1978.  Where was she headed with this?  Mrs. Ballantyne began by saying she recalled the day that she and Mr. Salls were sitting in her living room. 

Mrs. Ballantyne said that not too long after our 1968 visit in the Weingarten's parking lot, she wanted to know more about me.  So she asked her friend Charlie to tell her what he knew about me.  Apparently Mr. Salls had frowned at the mention of my name.  He began by saying I was an excellent student.  Then he said that he often worried about me.  After explaining my history at the school, he remarked that he had heard from one of my teachers that my home situation was pretty miserable. 

Mrs. Ballantyne said, "Charlie took a special interest in you.  No one had ever worked harder in his class than you did.  He admired your determination to succeed.  He said the only person he knew who seemed more driven at that age was himself."

I was astounded.  In that moment, Mr. Salls had come back to life to say he was proud of me.  I was 59 years old as Mrs. Ballantyne spoke, but I swear I choked up just like I was a lonely 18 year old kid again.  My eyes welled up and I shook my head in amazement.  I never had any idea that Mr. Salls kept close tabs on me.  

Mr. Salls was not only a great teacher and a great leader, he was also a very kind man.  He just didn't want anyone to know it.  He was much too modest to draw attention to himself.  He kept his eye on every single St. John's student whether we knew it or not. 

My fifth visit with Mrs. Ballantyne took place a year later in 2010.  Again the meeting took place at my dance studio when Christie and Yasmine came for their Swing lesson.  As always, I was delighted to see her.  Towards the end of the lesson, Christie whispered, "Mom wants to talk to you." 

I wasted no time moving to visit with her on the couch.  Mrs. Ballantyne said, "You probably don't know this, but I was a Swing dancer when I was young.  Jay used to take me dancing when we first met.  He's a wonderful dancer.  That was so much fun!"

I smiled.  "Would you like to dance now?"

Mrs. Ballantyne laughed.  "No, but thank you.  My hip has been giving me trouble.  You know, Rick, I wanted to see you today because I read that expanded story you wrote about me."

I nodded.  "Yes, after you visited me here at the dance studio in 2009, I was so touched by what you said about Mr. Salls that I expanded my original 2005 story to include him."

"I had no idea that your childhood was as tough as it was.  I knew from what you told me in the parking lot and what Charlie revealed was tough, but I never knew the details.  After reading about how bitter you were, it is amazing to me that you didn't end up in Montana writing a manifesto to explain why you bombed people.  I am so grateful you turned out differently instead of these young idiots in society today who think life is hard on them... boo hoo hoo... so they go to a school or a church and shoot up innocent people.  All in all, considering your troubled youth, you are amazingly sane.  How did you manage to come out so normal?"

I smiled.  "I don't know if I'm normal, but I can answer your question.  I had someone like Mr. Salls and you to look out for me every time I was about to fall apart.  Thank goodness Mr. Salls trusted there was more to me than my awful behavior in my Senior year.  That probably explains why he took such a gentle approach with me.  Yes, I was a bitter kid, but I loved my school with all my heart.  I just wish I could have contributed more like your children did."

"But you have contributed so much through your dance studio."

"Yes, I know that, Mrs. Ballantyne, but what I meant is that I wish I could find a way to repay St. John's for keeping me intact.   There have been many times in my adult life when I struggled to find the strength to move on.  It was my memory of St. John's that kept me going.  When I got thrown out of graduate school, I laid on a couch for a solid month.  Laying on that couch, every time I wanted to give up, I would remember my success at St. John's.  My memory of St. John's was my single anchor while I drifted because it reminded me how I had licked serious problems in the past.  Yes, I had been tossed out of graduate school, but that didn't mean my life was over.  Not by a long shot.  St. John's had taught me to compete.  St. John's had taught me to fight.  St. John's had taught me to persist.  Based on my time at St. John's, I knew I had talent.  I clung to that thought like a man clinging to a life ring in the ocean.  Every time doubt crept into my mind, I reminded myself that for nine long years I had held my own with the best and brightest Houston had to offer. 

Yes, I had failed in graduate school, but no, I wasn't a failure.  St. John's had taught me this.  Following my demise in graduate school I had no direction and no idea what to do next.  No matter, someday I would find my way.  Deep down, I knew that if I could just find a way to solve my personality problems and gain some confidence around people my own age, I had a lot to offer.  I would never hurt St. John's like those monsters at Columbine High School.  After all, it was my St. John's education that gave me a fighting chance in life.  Hard work, persistence, ambition, desire for achievement.  St. John's gave me that.  Quitting was not an option."

Mrs. Ballantyne smiled as she held my hand.  "You remind me so much of George sometimes.  He said the exact same thing about Texas A&M giving him a fighting chance.  Good for you.  I have an idea.  Why don't you write a book about St. John's?"

I grinned.  "You know what?  I might just do that."

Truth be told, Mrs. Ballantyne did not have the slightest idea I wanted to write a book.  But ever since my expanded article in 2009 I had been thinking about doing that when I retired from running the dance studio.  In that moment, I had a sudden insight.  My intuition said I was meant to tell the story of Mrs. Ballantyne.  Mrs. Ballantyne had just inspired me to write my book.

The one thing I never quite understood was why Mrs. Ballantyne trusted me so much to tell me so many intimate details of her life.  After all, I was a virtual stranger to this woman, yet she always spoke to me candidly as if I were her most trusted confidante in the world. 

Here is my theory.  Perhaps on some level, Mrs. Ballantyne 'knew' I would become her biographer one day.  Each time I saw her, Mrs. Ballantyne immediately got to work with new details.  It is curious that I never once got to ask her any of my own questions.  Mrs. Ballantyne was always so happy to see me, she just picked up right where she left off the last time.  Each time, I would just listen in wonder and amazement. 

As should be obvious, I came to love this woman.  However, if there was one thing that aggravated me about her, it was never getting the chance to ask my darn questions!!   Of all the questions that bugged me the most, my curiosity about her brother George was killing me.  She said I reminded her of her brother.  Oh Really?  In that case, who is he?  What does he do?

Guess what?  The moment I began to write my book in 2013, out of nowhere I suddenly got the answer to my question.  George was just as remarkable as his kid sister.  Turns out that George was a Billionaire.  Not bad for a guy who caught fish in Galveston Bay to pay his way through college.