erection2015
Alfrescian (InfP) + C
*Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living.*
* *
*When I arrived at 2:30 a.m., the building was dark except*
*for a single light in a ground floor window. Under these*
*circumstances, many drivers would just honk once or twice, wait a*
*minute, then drive away.*
* *
*But, I had seen too many impoverished people who depended on*
*taxis as their only means of transportation. Unless a situation smelled of*
*danger, I always went to the door. This passenger might be someone who*
*needs my assistance, I reasoned to myself.*
* *
*So I walked to the door and knocked. "Just a minute", answered a frail,
elderly*
*voice.*
* *
*I could hear something being dragged across the floor.*
* *
*After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 80's stood*
*before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil*
*pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940s movie.*
* *
*By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no*
*one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with*
*sheets.*
* *
*There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the*
*counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and*
*glassware.*
* *
*"Would you carry my bag out to the car?" she said. I took the*
*suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman.*
* *
*She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb. She kept*
*thanking me for my kindness.*
* *
*"It's nothing", I told her. "I just try to treat my passengers the*
*way I would want my mother treated".*
* *
*"Oh, you're such a good boy", she said.*
* *
*When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, then asked,*
*"Could you drive through downtown?"*
* *
* *
* *
* *
* *
* "It's not the shortest way," I answered quickly.*
* "Oh, I don't mind," she said. "I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a
hospice".*
* *
*I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening, continued,*
*"The doctor says I don't have very long."*
* *
*I quietly reached over and shut off the meter. "What route would you*
*like me to take?" I asked.*
* *
*For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the*
*building where she had once worked as an elevator operator.*
* *
*We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had*
*lived when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture*
*warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a
girl.*
* *
*Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or*
*corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.*
* *
*As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said,*
*"I'm tired. Let's go now."*
* *
*We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low*
*building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed*
*under a portico.*
* *
*Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were*
*solicitous and intent, watching her every move.They must have been
expecting*
*her.*
* *
*I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman*
*was already seated in a wheelchair.*
* *
*"How much do I owe you?" she asked, reaching into her purse.*
* *
*"Nothing," I said.*
* *
*"You have to make a living," she answered.*
* *
*"There are other passengers," I responded.*
* *
*Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me*
*tightly. "You gave an old woman a little moment of joy," she said.*
*"Thank you."*
* *
*I squeezed her hand, then walked into the dim morning light.*
* *
*Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a*
*life.*
* *
*I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly*
*lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk.*
* *
*What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was*
*impatient to end his shift?*
* *
*What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven
away?*
* *
*On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more*
*important in my life. We're conditioned to think that our lives*
*revolve around great moments.*
* *
*But great moments often catch us unaware-beautifully wrapped in what*
*others may consider a small one.*
* *
*PEOPLE MAY NOT REMEMBER EXACTLY WHAT YOU DID, OR WHAT YOU*
*SAID,*
* *
*~BUT THEY WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER HOW YOU MADE THEM FEEL~*
* *
*You won't get any big surprise in 10 days if you send it to ten*
*people.*
* *
*But, you might help make the world a little kinder and more*
*compassionate by sending it on.*
* *
*Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we are here we might*
*as well dance.*
* *
*Every morning when I open my eyes, I tell myself that it is special.*
*Every day, every minute, every breath truly is a gift from God.*
* *
* *
*--*
*Be happy always!!*
* *
*When I arrived at 2:30 a.m., the building was dark except*
*for a single light in a ground floor window. Under these*
*circumstances, many drivers would just honk once or twice, wait a*
*minute, then drive away.*
* *
*But, I had seen too many impoverished people who depended on*
*taxis as their only means of transportation. Unless a situation smelled of*
*danger, I always went to the door. This passenger might be someone who*
*needs my assistance, I reasoned to myself.*
* *
*So I walked to the door and knocked. "Just a minute", answered a frail,
elderly*
*voice.*
* *
*I could hear something being dragged across the floor.*
* *
*After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 80's stood*
*before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil*
*pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940s movie.*
* *
*By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no*
*one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with*
*sheets.*
* *
*There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the*
*counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and*
*glassware.*
* *
*"Would you carry my bag out to the car?" she said. I took the*
*suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman.*
* *
*She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb. She kept*
*thanking me for my kindness.*
* *
*"It's nothing", I told her. "I just try to treat my passengers the*
*way I would want my mother treated".*
* *
*"Oh, you're such a good boy", she said.*
* *
*When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, then asked,*
*"Could you drive through downtown?"*
* *
* *
* *
* *
* *
* "It's not the shortest way," I answered quickly.*
* "Oh, I don't mind," she said. "I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a
hospice".*
* *
*I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening, continued,*
*"The doctor says I don't have very long."*
* *
*I quietly reached over and shut off the meter. "What route would you*
*like me to take?" I asked.*
* *
*For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the*
*building where she had once worked as an elevator operator.*
* *
*We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had*
*lived when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture*
*warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a
girl.*
* *
*Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or*
*corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.*
* *
*As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said,*
*"I'm tired. Let's go now."*
* *
*We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low*
*building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed*
*under a portico.*
* *
*Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were*
*solicitous and intent, watching her every move.They must have been
expecting*
*her.*
* *
*I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman*
*was already seated in a wheelchair.*
* *
*"How much do I owe you?" she asked, reaching into her purse.*
* *
*"Nothing," I said.*
* *
*"You have to make a living," she answered.*
* *
*"There are other passengers," I responded.*
* *
*Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me*
*tightly. "You gave an old woman a little moment of joy," she said.*
*"Thank you."*
* *
*I squeezed her hand, then walked into the dim morning light.*
* *
*Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a*
*life.*
* *
*I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly*
*lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk.*
* *
*What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was*
*impatient to end his shift?*
* *
*What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven
away?*
* *
*On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more*
*important in my life. We're conditioned to think that our lives*
*revolve around great moments.*
* *
*But great moments often catch us unaware-beautifully wrapped in what*
*others may consider a small one.*
* *
*PEOPLE MAY NOT REMEMBER EXACTLY WHAT YOU DID, OR WHAT YOU*
*SAID,*
* *
*~BUT THEY WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER HOW YOU MADE THEM FEEL~*
* *
*You won't get any big surprise in 10 days if you send it to ten*
*people.*
* *
*But, you might help make the world a little kinder and more*
*compassionate by sending it on.*
* *
*Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we are here we might*
*as well dance.*
* *
*Every morning when I open my eyes, I tell myself that it is special.*
*Every day, every minute, every breath truly is a gift from God.*
* *
* *
*--*
*Be happy always!!*
