Sunny Side Up April 30, 2003 Kathleen Gibson �IT DOESN�T HAVE TO BE THIS WAY� We were probably the only florist shop in the universe that sold them. Biker bouquets. Designs by Duggin Nelsen (not his real name), an ex-biker on the lam from a gang that would as soon slit his throat as swat a fly. His bulk took up most of the space in the design room. I recall that the floor shook as he marched each fresh arrangement out to the front and plunked it on a shelf in the cooler. The shop owner had a soft spot in her heart for Duggin. She�d known him since he was a wee boy burning circles around her driveway on his trike. When he returned to town, hopefully to start a new life, and said that he needed to play with the flowers to �get reconnected with God�s things� she allowed him to come in Saturdays and do some arranging. I can still see him, pony-tailed hair halfway down his back, tattoos everywhere; stuffing fistfuls of lilies and daisies into glass vases. He worked fast, knew what he liked, and his unconventional arrangements always sold. I suppose I should have been frightened of Duggin, but he proved to be both gentle and a gentleman, in spite of his complicated past. We talked often, and I shuddered at the stories of his wasted years, shadowed by crimes, immorality, addictions and violence. But Duggin walked into a church one day. Heard the singing, and tired of running, surrendered to the hope that persisted in tapping on the door of his spirit; the little voice that kept saying �But it doesn�t have to be this way.� He joined a self-help group and began the process of restitution and rehabilitation, even though he knew that not many gang members escape their own clutches after bailing out. Here was someone of whom I may once have said, after hearing his story, �There�s no hope for that guy. Lock him up.� But Duggin had a name, a face, and a personality. I found myself rooting for his efforts to reform. Duggin had scant hope of succeeding in his new life. His gang discovered his whereabouts. He wondered daily if tonight would be the night they came for him. I added him to my prayer list, hoping that mine wasn�t the only prayer list he was on. I left my job at the flower store to make more time for writing. Duggin completed a rehab program, and weekly sat halfway to the back in my own church. Getting reconnected with God�s things. Setting his face to recovery. Listening to the voice of hope. Finally understanding that, after all, only one person ultimately determines that �it doesn�t have to be this way�. Duggin moved on eventually, and I�ve since lost track of him. I still pray for him sometimes. I hope his recovery is complete, that his face is still lifted to the Son. And I wonder if he still makes those biker bouquets. I kind of miss them. You can respond to this column at [email protected] |
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