The only one who appeared completely at ease was Phil. He arrived at the last minute, and did so in style – cruising into the parking lot aboard a brand new motorcycle. He walked into the bar with a big smile, said hello to the gang, and then glanced at me with an amused expression. We then had the following exchange.
Me: Hey Phil, how’s it going?
Phil: Mike, I got nothing to say to you until you ride my bike.
Me: Beg your pardon?
Phil: I said that you and I have nothing to talk about until you ride my bike. Got it?
With that, Phil walked me out to his bike, tossed me his keys, crossed his arms, and waited for me to ride off. And so I did. Really, I didn’t have much of a choice.
That was Phil Harris. He had a unique kind of generosity – the kind that sprung from a genuine enthusiasm for whatever it was he chose to focus on. It could be anything. Sometimes he focused on catching crab. Sometimes he focused on his boys, Josh and Jake. In that particular moment, he was focused on the joy of riding his new motorcycle, and he wanted to share that joy with me. He insisted upon it. That’s an unusual quality I think, and a very good one.
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