Thanksgiving is here again, and so too are my thoughts about the holiday and the idea of being thankful. What follows is a blog I had written in November of 2007, about something that happened on Thanksgiving the year before. It was something that touched me uniquely, and noteworthy enough for me to re-post here tonight.
On Thanksgiving of 2006, I was headed to my cousin Shari’s house in Jupiter for the holiday. Jupiter the city…not the planet. Things were not looking good at that time, in my business and in my personal finances; in fact, in my life overall. But that’s a long story, and not really the point of this blog, but simply the prelude.
Despite the difficult times at that time, I knew, we all know, that no matter our tough times there are always those who have it tougher. I don't need to be reminded of that, though I have reminded myself of it nonetheless.
I stopped at the gas station that afternoon before hitting the highway to Jupiter (the city, not the planet). I started pumping and had to hold the nozzle the whole time because the latch to hold the handle in the on position was missing. Damned annoying it was, and I always forget about that whenever I pull in front of that particular pump. It is a busy station on a main road before the highway and people rush in, pump, and rush out as quick as possible. Just like myself, already running late, and it takes a whole hour to get to Jupiter from where I live (the city, not the planet).
A dirty, disheveled homeless man walked up to me and began to speak, sounding apprehensive and nervous, and apologized for disturbing me. He asked me to pardon him, adding that many others have told him to go away from them. I knew what he wanted before he asked it. It didn't take a rocket scientist. I stopped the pump and took out my wallet, not expecting there to be any money in there. Not because of how broke I was, but because I rarely to almost never carried cash on me, relying on my credit card instead. I figured I might have a few bucks there however, and I was right. I had three dollars. I told him I only had three dollars because I usually don't carry cash on me, and gave it to him. He was thankful and walked away, and I went back to pumping the gasoline. He walked toward 7-11 next to the gas station, presumably to get something to eat.
I got in the car, wishing I had had more money to give him. I opened the ashtray, where I usually had extra coins, and fortunately had a handful of coins in there. I had several quarters, and I would guess that there was between two and three dollars in quarters, dimes, nickles, and pennies. I drove out from beside the pump and curved around to the side of the station parking lot, hoping to find the man nearby, providing he hadn't bypassed it and gone around the building, for whatever reason.
Sure enough, he was sitting on the walkway in front of, but diagonal to the corner of, the 7-11 building. He had his arms crossed atop his knees and his face in his arms, looking down. Perhaps despondent, perhaps ashamed at having to beg, perhaps ready to give up on everything. I told him that I had found some more money, and handed him the coins. He looked up at me, a strange look on his face, and he didn't say anything at all. I told him, "God be with you," and walked back to my car. He didn't say a word to me. I think he was stunned speechless. It wasn't much what I gave him by most people's standards though obviously it was a lot of money to him. How many meals can 5 or 6 dollars buy you in a convenience store? What does a simple sandwich sell for, 2 or 3 dollars? Or do they have those hot dogs for 1.29 or 1.99? I don't even know. Hell, 3 bucks and change will at least buy you a box of Ritz crackers I think, and that could last a day or so at least.
No, I think what stunned him speechless was that anyone would not only give him money, but take the extra time to give him more money rather than rushing off ASAP.
I stopped at the gas station that afternoon before hitting the highway to Jupiter (the city, not the planet). I started pumping and had to hold the nozzle the whole time because the latch to hold the handle in the on position was missing. Damned annoying it was, and I always forget about that whenever I pull in front of that particular pump. It is a busy station on a main road before the highway and people rush in, pump, and rush out as quick as possible. Just like myself, already running late, and it takes a whole hour to get to Jupiter from where I live (the city, not the planet).
A dirty, disheveled homeless man walked up to me and began to speak, sounding apprehensive and nervous, and apologized for disturbing me. He asked me to pardon him, adding that many others have told him to go away from them. I knew what he wanted before he asked it. It didn't take a rocket scientist. I stopped the pump and took out my wallet, not expecting there to be any money in there. Not because of how broke I was, but because I rarely to almost never carried cash on me, relying on my credit card instead. I figured I might have a few bucks there however, and I was right. I had three dollars. I told him I only had three dollars because I usually don't carry cash on me, and gave it to him. He was thankful and walked away, and I went back to pumping the gasoline. He walked toward 7-11 next to the gas station, presumably to get something to eat.
I got in the car, wishing I had had more money to give him. I opened the ashtray, where I usually had extra coins, and fortunately had a handful of coins in there. I had several quarters, and I would guess that there was between two and three dollars in quarters, dimes, nickles, and pennies. I drove out from beside the pump and curved around to the side of the station parking lot, hoping to find the man nearby, providing he hadn't bypassed it and gone around the building, for whatever reason.
Sure enough, he was sitting on the walkway in front of, but diagonal to the corner of, the 7-11 building. He had his arms crossed atop his knees and his face in his arms, looking down. Perhaps despondent, perhaps ashamed at having to beg, perhaps ready to give up on everything. I told him that I had found some more money, and handed him the coins. He looked up at me, a strange look on his face, and he didn't say anything at all. I told him, "God be with you," and walked back to my car. He didn't say a word to me. I think he was stunned speechless. It wasn't much what I gave him by most people's standards though obviously it was a lot of money to him. How many meals can 5 or 6 dollars buy you in a convenience store? What does a simple sandwich sell for, 2 or 3 dollars? Or do they have those hot dogs for 1.29 or 1.99? I don't even know. Hell, 3 bucks and change will at least buy you a box of Ritz crackers I think, and that could last a day or so at least.
No, I think what stunned him speechless was that anyone would not only give him money, but take the extra time to give him more money rather than rushing off ASAP.
I felt very thankful after that. Not thankful because of what I do have in life. No, I found myself thankful that I had had the money on me at all to be able to give it to him. I was thankful that I had been there at the right time to be able to help. I have given much more money than that to the homeless in times before and since, but honestly, that one time seemed to mean more to me than any other time I’d helped anyone.
People say you should not expect thanks when you do something for someone; that you do it for the sake of doing it, not for the thanks of it. Still, it's hard not to be irritated sometimes when you do something for someone who doesn't really need it, and they don't bother to thank you for it. But that man's stunned silence spoke louder thanks than even the loudest fake "thanks" from those who don't really mean it.
People say you should not expect thanks when you do something for someone; that you do it for the sake of doing it, not for the thanks of it. Still, it's hard not to be irritated sometimes when you do something for someone who doesn't really need it, and they don't bother to thank you for it. But that man's stunned silence spoke louder thanks than even the loudest fake "thanks" from those who don't really mean it.
I am thankful that I did not hear the thanks that I heard. He didn’t need to say it. It was in his eyes.
No comments:
Post a Comment