I Never Knew His Name

As we run here and there during this holiday season, we often find ourselves getting lost in the hustle and bustle. But as this story will demonstrate, it's not always the holidays that keep us busy, but rather just life in general.

How many times have you driven away from your home and wondered just who lives in that house three doors down? We often take the time to meet our next door neighbors, but beyond that, many of us do not know the families who live on our street.

Case in point happened to me sometime in 1987. I was in eighth grade. We just had a snow storm so there was no school that day. My brother and I with a few friends decided to go and offer to shovel some sidewalks. Most of our neighbors had already gotten a start on the job so the idea of paying someone to do it for them never crossed their mind.

We made it half way around the corner when we happened on a house with a large driveway. The man who lived there took one look at the children carrying shovels and called us over. He offered $20 to shovel the whole driveway. Each of us would receive $5.00. We were happy,he was happy; and so we began.

We seriously underestimated the size of the driveway. Turns out, the job took a couple of hours to finish. But once done, we received our $20, and our neighbor could now pull his pickup truck safely onto the road.

We took our new found riches down to the corner store where we invested in hot chocolate and some goodies. We didn't shovel another driveway that day.

Every now and again we would see the man driving his pickup down our street. We'd give a wave, he would give a nod. I never knew his name.

Now twenty some years later I return to my old neighborhood when visiting my parents. I've seen the man in the pickup truck (now replaced by a newer model, but still a pickup). Some time over the years we stopped waving. Maybe it was the years that passed between those short meetings. We both grew older, and didn't recognize each other any longer as the old man in the driveway or the child holding her shovel.

I received word the other day that there was a fire in my old neighborhood. Turns out the house belonged to the old man in the pickup. I drove by only to find what was left of the beautiful rancher that once sat around the corner from my home. Now covered in soot, most of the windows had be broken out by the firefighters. The man was working night shift when the fire broke out. His wife was not so lucky. From what I've gathered, she is still in the hospital being treated for smoke inhalation. The sight barely resembled what I remember that cold snowy day as me, my brother and our friends carved a path in the snow.

The world is a strange place. We hold our children so close, teaching them to fear strangers. Even our own neighbors take a back seat to our systems of protection, and the high fences we build around ourselves.

Take time this holiday season. Wave to a stranger. Meet a new neighbor. Or even better... shovel a driveway.

A Gathering of Strangers

I witnessed fear the other day. Not my own, but rather through an other's eyes.
I chose a pew near the front of church. Accompanied by my five year old, we said a few prayers, sat back, and observed our surroundings as strangers filed in through the doors. Although we usually sit alone, a kind woman dressed in a red leather jacket asked to sit with us that day. I politely moved over. As I sat watching the many faces, I noticed two of my favorite people entering the church. I use the word favorite in an odd sense; for I have never met them before, aside from the pleasantries exchanged during the sign of peace. This man and woman I assume to be married and quite up there in age, although I would never place a guess on the exact number. I often see them enter together, but she generally walks a few paces in front of her husband. This seems to be the normal in their relationship. She is the guide, and he is the willing participant. She walks with purpose. He slouches a bit, and moves his feet across the floor with a slide. Sometimes I receive a smile from the couple. Other days, like this one, they tend to their own business.
Mass began as usual, but there was something different today. The old woman didn't have her spunk, her tenacity. As we sat listening to the reading, I overheard the woman say she had pain in her legs. I watched as her husband began to run his hand up and down her leg in an effort to bring some comfort.
Now the following part I'm about to tell could have gone a number of ways. In the past few months I've been intrigued by stories on the news telling of people witnessing horrible things, but refusing to get involved. No one can say what they will do in certain situations, but if you have the opportunity to give a hand, sometimes its worth extending it. I lightly tapped the woman on her back. She turned to me as if to scream for help, but her words were buried in whatever pain she was feeling at that moment. Her husband said in a troubled voice, "I don't know what to do." A quick decision by the lady in the red leather jacket, myself, and an usher led to a 911 call. As the lady in the red leather jacket returned to the pew, the old woman collapsed in our arms. She came in and out of her clouded thought long enough to try to convince us that she was alright. We didn't buy it.
All the while, I couldn't help but watch her husband. I imagined that he had been at her side well before I had entered this world. During their tenure he was happy to sit back and give her the wheel. He knew that he was in good hands. But today, with all the many happy years he had invested, he realized, he never learned to drive. As the paramedics arrived and placed the woman on the gurney, her husband stood by her side. He spoke not a word, but oddly she knew what he was saying.
It's weird how life sometimes works. We're placed in situations that despite their complexity, we manage to work through. There are reasons for everything. I sat in that pew that day thinking it would be like any other. Instead, I witnessed love, was helped by an angel, and hopefully taught a lesson to my son about the joy of reaching out to a stranger. It was a good day.