Warning: This is not a political diary. It is my humble attempt at conveying a message about shared humanity. With all of the ugliness in candidate wars (and yes I contribute my fair share of nastiness), I hope you will find this story thought-provoking.
And yes, this story is based on real events. It happened to me towards the end of summer 2007... I knew I would write about, just not when. This afternoon it hit me.
Please join me below the fold for the story - I hope you enjoy it.
She Was Still Human
"Excuse me.. Sir? Sir?"
I was the only one in the parking lot. So I turned to look, who was it that hailed me so?
"Sir.. I'm sorry.. please... can you help me?"
Disheveled, hobbling, wrapped in tattered rags, wearing desperation as an accessory with the scent of death heavy, the apparition approached.
(crying now)
"Sir, my father just died at a hospital... I'm not from around here and have no way back home."
Me: "Calm down.. what can I do for you? Where are you from? Do you need a ride? Is there someone you could call?"
"Oh thank you... no, I'm not from around here.. I don't have anyone I can call. I owe a guy $20 for fixing my car.. if I can pay him back I can get back home. Please help me.. "
Me: "Okay.. I've got $20 I can give you. Where is this mechanic? I'll give you a ride."
(crying immediately stops, replaced by a look as if she just won the lottery)
"Can I borrow your cell phone? I need to call him first."
Me: "Sure.. here's my cell phone"
"I promise I won't make any long distance calls, you can watch if you want. I'll give it right back."
Me: "go ahead, make your call"
(makes call)
"Hello... is Jim there? This is Tina.. he said I could call this number if I needed him."
(pause)
"okay okay.. tell him I have the money. I'll be there in a few minutes.. will he be there? You sure? I have the money. Okay.. across the street? Okay I'll be there. Make sure you tell Jim I have money."
(hands phone back to me)
"thank you thank you Sir.. thank you. Can you still give me a ride? It's not far."
Me: "Sure. hop in"
(I get in driver's side, Tina gets in on passenger side)
(in the floor of passenger side are my hiking boots)
"Sir.. may I move these? I don't want to get them dirty"
I think: How beaten & defeated must a human creature be, to fear getting dirty the footwear of another human just by touching it?
Me: "Sure you can move them. But don't worry about it.. you're not going to hurt anything."
(she carefully picks up my muddy boots and carefully places them in the back seat)
Me: "Okay, where to?"
"Just across the street. That road next to the Police station.. just drive down it and I'll tell you where to go"
(we make it to the other side of the street; Passing the Police station on the left, with its inventory of new Police Cruisers emblazoned with the words "To Serve & Protect")
Progress:
After a few more turns, we travel down a road I recognize from when I was a boy. It's a road which used to lead to small dime-stores with fountain drinks inside them. I know this because my Mother grew up in this area, known as East Chattanooga. I even had some of those famous fountain drinks, when Mom would take me into such places.. She a college student, with her son in tow, sharing prizes from her youth and sowing in my memory gems for me to find many decades later. The road, once well traveled, is less so now. The dime-stores are gone. Buildings are boarded up. Replaced by pawn shops and liquor stores with iron bars in their windows.
(we approach a particular pawn shop)
"Here, sir. That pawn shop there.. if you could just let me out on the corner please. Thank you so much."
(I pull into the pawn shop's parking lot)
Me: Wait. Here's another $10. I hope you find what you need.
"Oh thank you! I have to go.. thank you Sir."
(she exits the car, nervously looking around and making haste to stand on the corner - there is no repair shop)
Watcher or Watched:
I hesitate; Looking around I can observe that some people are taking notice - a clean-cut white guy, sitting in the parking lot of a pawn shop in East Chattanooga in a new Jetta, doing nothing.
Looking across the street, I see the remains of a car wash - rusted, roof tilted, grimy, trash strewn. I'm fascinated, I can't look away. Though I've overstayed my time, I can't pull away just yet.
The car wash begins to change. Rust, which covered its tin roof, begins to recede leaving unblemished and unbowed aluminum in its wake. Trash, which had grown like a lawn, begins to fade. Pock-marked concrete becomes smooth.
Several automobiles appear , shiny, new, and fresh - being carefully washed by their owners. The pawn shops and liquor stores have been banished; This is a place of hope.
I continue watching as a young college student, who has just pulled into the car wash, exits her car. Gleefully exiting the passenger side is a young blond-haired boy, eager to help make sure that both car and its former occupants enjoy the benefits of high-pressure water. Giggling, with the young woman's laugh as accompaniment, the boy gleefully takes the proffered quarters from the young woman and slides them into the slots to activate the "magic wand".
In sadness I watch as the laughter dies; The shiny cars turn to junk; The car wash itself begins to fade and rust. The pawn shop and liquor stores reappear.
It doesn't matter; The gem, placed in my memory by mom, is proof against such ugliness. Pity reality, for all its might, is such a weakling after all.
Stay or Go:
Does the car wash still work? Could I cross the street and wash my car? To stand in the very spot I, and a young lady, laughingly occupied so many many years ago? Could I do this?
No; There is no need. I have something far more valuable than a mere re-enactment: I have in my possession the impervious gem of memory, a gift given me by a young woman many many years ago.
Looking around, I spy the woman whose earlier request for help I responded to. There is no mechanic or auto repair shop. There is only a dilapidated old house off to the side whose porch she has ascended. The front door, opened slightly, allows her room enough only to convince the occupant that she has not come empty-handed. She disappears, this apparition of despair and death.
I hope that she too has gems which she may yet find or re-discover. Gems which require no recompense and were given freely.
After all, even junkies are still human.