François was our Security Guard in Boston at WGBH's main entrance. Every person who passed by him got a special word of hello and farewell. He neglected no one, from the biggest stars to people off the street. Welcoming everyone, in fact, was about the only thing he did for security. It was his idea, I suspect, of how best to protect our building from harm. His boss didn't share his philosophy and let François go. The day François left I asked him to spend a little time talking with me in the studio. Here is some of what he said.

Tony Kahn:

Hi. This is Tony Kahn with a “Hi, Tony” podcast, more unforgettable stories from the lives of everyday people.

For years, François was our chief security guard in Boston, at WGBH’s main entrance. As a French-Canadian, he manned his post with a bonhomie all his own. Without exception, every person who passed by him in the course of the day got a special word of either “hello” or “farewell,” depending on which direction they were going. François neglected no one, from the biggest stars who came to WGBH from theater, film and TV to job seekers off of the street. Welcoming everybody, making everybody feel at home, in fact, was (as he saw it) his one and only duty as a security guard and I suspect it was his idea of how best to protect our building from harm.

Well, François’ boss didn’t exactly share François’ philosophy of how to be a security guard and eventually François was let go. Before he left, though, I asked François to spend a little time with me in the studio just talking about his life. Here’s a bit of what he said – today’s story, “Light as a Feather.”

François:

My father used to hit us like crazy. He would lunge at me first with a strap, thinking I had done something. They were both extremely temperamental. My mother had a whole series of how evil we the children had been and we’d all get a beating, either then, Saturday night, or Sunday morning before church. His mother had died when he was twelve, and my mother was this adopted child, living across the way. They had a hard time as a young couple.

It was a very Roman Catholic village. [inaudible] birth control, and they had a tryst and I came. And I have a brother who was about ten months later. And everybody knew. The village made it so that my mother could not marry in white. She had to wear a blue suit, and so they moved away from the village.

[Sound of low, rolling thunder]

They were constantly, constantly, constantly arguing.

Discipline [laughs]. Yes. Strict. I mean...I think my mother resented that I came. I remember once being put out on the porch with my brother in the rain, stark naked. [sound of rain] I don’t know what we had said or done, but she said some [indistinct] “well, you can go back the way you came – from nothing in the garden of good and evil.”

[Rain intensifies, mixed with thunder]

Sometimes I pull out of relationships myself, sort of like withdrawing in whatever there is. Maybe it’s the whole cycle repeating itself.

[Rain stops and there is the sound of raindrops, as after a storm]

When my father died he could not forgive himself. Towards the end he knew that...he knew...he knew...he knew how he had been and he just wouldn’t forgive himself. Let it go! We had let it go. He wouldn’t. Said, “I can’t do that.”

Now I’m 63 and ... well ... the more I let go trying to manipulate everything, the easier it’s becoming. I don’t know. When my brother ... we bring in my brother...there was a reception in the church and then ... and then we went home to the house, the house on the lake, and people were milling about, but my mother just was sitting, not knowing what. And she ... by now she’s a tiny little ... you know? And going deaf. And without thinking I just picked her up physically and just rocked her. Sat down in the only rocking chair there and started rocking, and she said, “Oh, I love being rocked.” And then she just, she just cuddled in, just like a child. Just like a baby child and I just kept on rocking. “I love being rocked. And I haven’t been rocked like this since father.” And she loved this man and he died when she was young.

[Rain sounds again]

All of a sudden I realized I was rocking a little girl that had not been rocked for 70 years, you know? It’s true. Whatever else. There was somebody who had not had that. I don’t know. I’m glad it happened very much.

I don’t ... I think we’re all basically in the same spot. Women. Most guys, too.

[Sound of chorus singing]

We just all want that hug that will somehow make it perfect.

Light as a feather. She was light as a feather.

[Singing ends, and rain tapers off.]

Tony Kahn:

Today’s story, “Light as a Feather.” I’d love to hear from you with stories or news of your own. Just write to me at <tony@tonykahn.com> and for the full archive of over 170 of these tales in audio and in video, be sure to visit the Morning Stories web site at <wgbh.org/morningstories>. More stories of extraordinary moments in the lives of ordinary people next time.

See ya then.

[End of recording]

Transcribed by Bev Sykes