Paul

         A character has a unique assortment of natural behaviors that combine with a distinct personality. This mixture reveals how they view their actions, deal with other people and fit in with their surroundings. The colorful expression of their individuality is what sets them apart from the crowd. These are the people I like to write about.

Paul

         The first time I saw Paul, he was struggling to get a plunger off of the top of his bald head.  Every time he tugged he raised his bushy eyebrows as high as they would go and opened his eyes wide in a surprised look that said, “How’d that get there?”  Sometimes he would simply leave it stuck to his head and walk around the office as if nothing was peculiar.  I wondered if the plunger was new or used and if it was for sinks or toilets, but really, I guess I didn’t want to know.

         Six feet, seven inches of muscle and flab, Paul was a very big man.  His eyes twinkled when he broke out in a deep, full belly laugh, which was often, and he amused himself by amusing others.  Cheerful and happy, Paul was obliged to share his fondness for diversion as a prescription for the monotonous.  Some people pull pranks, but Paul thought pranks were humiliating and hurtful.  Instead, he used himself as his platform of merriment.  He was married to a lovely, petite woman, Anne, who was nearly half his size, friendly and talkative.  Anne felt the sun rose and set just for Paul and that he was the most wonderful husband in the world.  If Paul was as much fun at home as he was elsewhere, they had a lively marriage. 

         When he was, “just Paul”, he was quiet and calm.  His kindness and generosity was the larger part of his nature.  A joy to speak with, he would always leave you feeling good with heartfelt, encouraging words.  There was nothing he wouldn’t do for anyone who asked and sometimes asking wasn’t necessary, he just seemed to know.  He knew no enemies, but there were some who thought he carried his liveliness far beyond reason, even if they enjoyed it at the time.

         The employment office was always busy and the staff took turns at the front desk, greeting clients as they came in.  Most of us made polite conversation with them after they signed in and waited to be seen, but Paul had a different take on what the front desk required.  He performed magic tricks and juggling acts for the clients and if they brought children, he would blow up balloons and tie them into various shapes and give them away.  Office protocol meant little to Paul and it was his way of lightening up a stuffy atmosphere of officialdom.

         We had daily, weekly and monthly meetings.  Paul took them all in his natural stride.  If the meeting was about office attire, Paul came in bare-chested, wearing a tie around his neck, jogging shorts and flip-flops.  A meeting about office clutter would result in Paul arriving in full military dress including sword, white gloves, braids and cords ready to conduct a white glove inspection.  Serving clients faster caused Paul to appear in roller skates, racing up and down the aisles delivering messages and paperwork.  If new regulations weren’t being read quickly enough he would walk around the office balancing the binders on his head saying, “I’m absorbing the information through osmosis.”

         He was never boring and we were never bored.  We enjoyed his antics and wondered what he might come up with next.  He was our bright, shining light and we took pleasure in his activities.

         One day during lunch, Paul’s pleasure went over the edge.  He drove around the parking lot, circling the other cars.  The top half of his body stuck out through the sun roof and he pressed the gas pedal with one foot and steered with the other.  He laughed and sang and waved to the growing crowd.  He was really doing quite well, until the police came and took him away.

         We didn’t see Paul for two weeks and the office was bleak and dreary.  When he returned we greeted him happily, but he was a different man.  There was no sparkle and shine in his eyes and his voice was weary and sad.  He kept to himself and rarely spoke or looked anyone in the face.

         “We found out Paul is Bipolar”, Anne told us.  “He’s on medication now and he’s just not the same.  I don’t know what to do.  I miss my Paul.”

         We missed him, too, and still do.  He left us shortly thereafter and we never saw him again.  He and his family moved away to start fresh and left no phone number or forwarding address.  I suppose that was best.  We would have made him suffer; waiting for him to once again become the Paul we were accustomed to.

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"Ester"  [E]