I arrived at Cafe Luna to find Island Irv already settled at our usual table by the window, watching the morning foot traffic with his characteristic blend of amusement and philosophical detachment.
"If by that you mean movie and television filming activities, then yes, I have. I've spent nearly two years tracking film crews along the Carolina coast, and I'm still not entirely sure how to measure my success."
"Ah," said Irv, leaning back in his chair. "Anniversary reflections. The universe does love its milestones." He took a sip of his coffee and studied me with that knowing expression I've come to both appreciate and slightly dread. "So what's troubling you about your cinematic adventures?"
"Troubling might be too strong a word," I said. "It's more like... confusion. Take that day in Southport when I was trying to get onto the set of 'The Waterfront.' I was convinced I'd be escorted off the set by security, but instead I ended up sitting at a table with the crew like I belonged there."
"And this surprises you because...?"
"Because it shouldn't have happened! My plan was ridiculous. Walk onto a film set as though you belong there? That's not a strategy, that's wishful thinking."
He chuckled. "You know, there's a sparrow outside my kitchen window every morning who sits on top of the feeder station, unmoving, staring blankly into space. She seems to enjoy the view, the peace, and the abundant food supply. She could be thinking of hawks and the need to hurry back to protective cover, but she doesn’t. Instead, she takes a few moments to enjoy life, trusting that the universe will take care of her.
"Are you comparing me to a sparrow?"
“No, in fact, I think you should be more like that sparrow. Do you remember the production assistant who offered you a popsicle on the set of The Waterfront?"
"Of course I remember. How could I forget that?”
"She materialized—and I use that word intentionally—at exactly the moment you needed guidance. Not only did she escort you to the perfect location to observe everything going on, but she also gave you a bottle of water, explained the protocols, and essentially made you part of the crew. You think that was a coincidence?"
I stirred my latte thoughtfully. "I think it was kindness. Human kindness."
"And where do you suppose human kindness comes from?" Irv asked. "You think Vee woke up that morning and decided, 'Today I'll be extra nice to unauthorized visitors'? Or do you think something larger was working through her?"
"Now you're getting mystical on me. It’s not like you. What have you done with the real Islander and where are you going with this?”
“I’ve been watching you stumble into exactly the right situations for over a year," he replied. "Take your 'Driver's Ed' adventure. Three days of attempts. First day—shot down by a harried PA. Second day—completely lost at Flaming Amy's. Third day—not only do you find the right location, but Tom, the Production Manager, invited you to document everything."
"That was persistence paying off, just like Ms. Wonder said it would."
"Persistence, yes. But persistence guided by what? You could have persisted in the wrong direction for months. Instead, you persisted in exactly the right sequence, meeting exactly the right person, at exactly the right moment when he was in the mood to be generous with a blogger."
I had to admit there was a pattern there, though I wasn't ready to attribute it to cosmic intervention. "Are you saying that the universe arranged for me to become Wilmington's unofficial film correspondent?"
"I'm saying the universe arranged for you to become exactly who you needed to become. The film adventures were just the vehicle. Think about what you've learned about yourself through all this."
"That I have terrible navigation skills?"
"That you're braver than you give yourself credit for," he corrected. "That you can walk onto a film set with confidence when you need to. That you can persist through rejection and setbacks. That you can turn embarrassing mishaps into entertaining stories. That strangers will go out of their way to help you succeed."
"When you put it like that..."
"When I put it like that, it sounds like the universe has been running a year-long workshop called 'Genome Learns To Trust His Place In The World,' and you've been an excellent student."
We sat in comfortable silence for a moment, watching the morning unfold outside the window.
"So you really think there's some grand design behind all my cinematic mishaps?” I asked.
"I think we sometimes survive and thrive despite our clever planning,” he said.
“Because something larger is looking out for us?”
"Does it really matter why? It's all good, and it makes for a better story in any case."
He raised his coffee cup in a mock toast. "Here's to year three of your cinematic adventures.”
As we finished our coffee and prepared to leave, I realized that sitting here, processing the year's adventures, I felt something I hadn't expected: gratitude.
“Thanks for being a friend,” I said as we gathered our things. “Same time next week?"
"Wouldn't miss it," he said.
"By the way, invite the real Island Irv along next week. The place doesn't seem the same without him."
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