My town wasn't the smallest in the county but wasn't the biggest either. We had 8 main streets that ran North South, and 12 that ran the other way. There were many country roads here and there. Our only big bridge is the E Street Bridge. It crossed the widest section of the Franklin Creek, which was actually a small river that dumped into the Ohio a bit further on. Day time found it to be a bit busy but only a few cars crossed at night. The bridge also served as my summer home.
I had a nice little set up here. I had a bed fashioned on pallets that could serve as a couch, tucked under the bridge. A cardboard door helped keep it private and dry. I used solar lights to keep the darkness away. People throw them out all the time. Such waste is my gain, I say. By the entrance stood my good friend Gramma Krackers. Her wiry hair and ready grin was often a comfort when the world got hard to deal with. Too bad I was the only one who heard her jokes.
This night, I had been fishing for my dinner. My fire was kept low so I didn't invite others into my space. I had hoped to have a fried fish feast in just a bit. I set my pole to the side as the man reached the edge of the bridge.
I watched his slow walk, the slump of his shoulders, and the way he just couldn't seem to lift his feet to take another step. It was hard to read his body language but he didn't worry me, so I thought I would see what he was about. I ducked inside for a quick check of things, then I crawled out and followed the man up onto the bridge.
He was dressed in jeans and western work shirt. He had a cap on his head that read EMS in big blue letters. He walked in a bone wearily way that made me think of days gone by. I once carried a load on my mind that kept my shoulders slumped and my feet dragging. I had to quicken my step up a bit to catch up but then I didn't say anything, just walked with him a ways.
We had gotten about half way across that old bridge, when the man turned to me. At first he just looked through me with those troubled eyes. After a heart beat or two, he reached into his pocket and dug out a few coins and a crumpled couple of bills. He reached out his hand without so much as a word. I took what he offered but with a heavy heart. I looked down at it, there in my hand, until he reached out and closed my fingers around it.
"I won't need it and you do," he said before turning on his heel and sure footing it to the railing. He leaned his arms on the cold metal and stared off into the water.
Not stepping any closer, I said to him, "You know, I haven't always this way. I've had my moments."
I told him about sitting here, on the water's edge, with the bright sun on my shoulders. I told him about that long plane ride home from a war that never left my dreams. I told him how I had felt the day my little boy was born. A mile high and bullet proof to be exact. There were moments when I was second to none. Moments when I did what I thought I couldn't do.
I was quiet for a time. I let the warm memories flow through me in a way that no chill could get through. The sounds of night settled in before I added, "Lookin' at me now, you might not know it, but I've had my moments."
He stood there so still. I didn't budge. My feet were sore but nothing like they had been in the days of battle. I knew the look he wore because I had seen it before, felt it before. Deep in his blue eyes came a search for the nerve to push up and over that rail. His heart was wondering if anyone would miss him, if anyone really cared.
I had no words to ease what ever pain he cared except the two that had once been given me. I said them quietly and just once. "I care."
He didn't show that he had heard me. He just stood there looking down and I just stood there with him. I didn't move too close. I didn't move away. I was just there.
Suddenly he broke his silence. With a hitch in his deep voice he said, "You know, I haven't always this way. I've had my moments."
He told me about giving up the wine for a woman who became his wife. How that love, when it was right could see him through. He talked of the time he found a child in a pool and brought her back from where the young should never be. He talked of moments when he did what thought he couldn't do.
That night we talked for hours. From time to time, we would talk again.
"How many times did that old man tell you that story as he stood around this old trash can fire? Can you see it as clearly as I remember that day? You know, he did have his moments. He had moments when he did what he thought he couldn't do. Like that cool night, long ago, when I almost ended it, and he saw me through. He wasn't scared a bit. He just helped me hold on."
The young man had since become a father, a man making his way in the world, doing what he could to do it right. He gathered up the gift his old friend had left for him and turned away from the small gathering of street folks, friends and family that hadn't understood the old man.
He heard Gramma Krackers say, "This is one of those moments. Hold tight to it so it can help you through."
I hope you all enjoyed the story. I hope you leave me a message below. If you all like this stuff, I will do it more often. Let me know....
Find peace in your moments.... it's there... trust me.
I really hope they stand their ground so we can sit and watch them kill each other over bounced paychecks. It will be a nice change of pace from watching them kill each other over sunglasses. Followed by: Gotta get the National Gaurd to block off the city first so none of it spills over in normal people's neighborhoods first.
Comment 9: Detroit has been morally bankrupt for decades. Followed by: How can you say that? Just because most people there have babies out of wedlock, get their sexual advise from rappers, and call each other n*gga and muthaf*cka. Aren't they just morally outstanding citizens?
Comment 10: Get yer lootin' clothes on . .
My Point:
Here's the problem as I see it: People are too caught up in blaming and stereotyping that they aren't seeing what is really going on. The people in charge are using it against us all.
We all want our "rights" but many people think they can deny the rights of others based on what they think is morally correct.
We all want to have our basic needs met with a little extra thrown in but many want to cut the ways some people get help. People are criticized and limited in even their ways of trying to get through. Last summer there was a family that went world wide because it struggled to have a garden.
We live in our day to day lives and many people have forgotten to reach out and help others. People judge the actions or inaction of others without thinking of the reasons behind the situation.
I was asked recently why the private citizens of Detroit don't tear down the empty houses themselves or mow all of the tall grass. The commentators said it was the duty and responsibility of the people who live in the neighborhoods. While I agree to a point, people often forget that it takes money to buy gas, you have to be physically able, and the people who are left in the hard hit areas are lacking in the basics let alone the extras.
We are all in this together but to expect a few to do the work of many without help is just stupid.
It is also stupid to make the worlds problems about race or sexual orientation. Religion can be a bigger issue when taken to extremes then both of the other things combined. People need to respect each other no matter what ways they differ.
Up Next: I'm going to try to show everyone that we are not all bad and I'm going to use Detroit as an example. I have sent out requests to a few of the local Good Guys to let me showcase their work a bit. I want to see the rays of light that this City contains. Then I want everyone to see it in their own corner of the world.
I will get them up and running as soon as possible.