Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: SUNDAY, February 13, 1994 TAG: 9402100063
SECTION: EXTRA PAGE: 1 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: Cody Lowe
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
He had on a black leather flight jacket, crew neck sweater, nice shoes. It wasn't freezing yet, but it was 9 p.m., and the puddles in the parking lot would begin icing up before long.
"Hey," he said, as I walked in to buy my lottery ticket for that night's drawing.
"Hey," I said, walking on, sure I didn't know this fellow. I'm always forgetting faces, though, probably the consequence of having a job where I see so many new ones so often. Maybe I'd better look again.
He's about 5-foot-10, white, with a neatly trimmed short black beard and hair hanging over his collar - probably not a CPA, but apparently not a drunken panhandler, either.
"You're not headed for Clifton Forge, are you?" he said. "My car broke down about a mile back."
"No. Sorry," I blurted out. "I'm just going about a mile." Suddenly, inexplicably, guilt swallowed me. OK, so my house really was two miles down the road, and it was in the direction he wanted to go. It wasn't much of a lie, just a little one to keep from saying, "Look, buddy, I've hitched a few rides in my time, but these days I don't pick up anybody." Especially somebody who needs a ride that will be 30 miles out of my way.
"No, problem. Thanks, anyway. I understand," he said without a trace of suspicion or disbelief or rancor.
"My family's waiting on me now," I said, not adding that I'd put in a 12-hour day at the office and just wanted to get settled in front of the TV with a meat-loaf sandwich and a beer.
It was true that I hadn't seen much of my family for a few days, and I missed that. But deep down, I just didn't want to be inconvenienced. I apparently didn't mind putting off seeing the wife and kids for a few more minutes to put some money on a 7 million-to-1 shot.
"No problem."
Inside the store, the Lotto machine was broken, so no play that night.
On the way back to the car, the guy nods, says, "Hey," again.
"Hope you get a ride soon. There's a lot of traffic through this place," I said as cheerfully as I could. "By the way, is there somebody you could call in Clifton to come get you?" There had been no answer, he said.
Wishing him good luck, I got into the car. Before I could back out of my parking space, he knocked on the window. "I could pay 10 bucks to somebody willing to give me a ride."
"It's not that," I said, leaving the explanation hanging.
"No problem, really. I understand."
A few minutes later I was home. Alone. My wife and children were out visiting friends. I thought about calling the store to see if the guy had found a ride, but I didn't. Surely, someone going north would give him a lift.
Yet even now, three weeks later, I worry about whether he got home that night. If a ride came along before the store closed up.
I wonder, if I'd needed a ride, how a stranger would have viewed me that night in my lightweight stained jacket, grungy tennis shoes, long hair.
We are obliged to be careful. When we are alone, picking up a stranger can be risky. We owe it to our loved ones, at least, to be responsible in the risks we are willing to take.
That night I let what was not so much personal fear as a cultural anxiety - combined with a refusal to be inconvenienced - keep me from doing what would have been the right thing.
Despite the warnings from some pulpits and the downtown merchants of Roanoke, I usually do give some money to panhandlers when they approach me. Maybe I am only contributing to their alcohol or drug problems. I pray, however, that my little glimmer of generosity will help keep alive a spark of hope in those people. That where they miss the warmth of society's fellowship, they will at least have a glow in their bellies.
Physically, the gesture costs me nothing - a dollar, some loose change. Spiritually, withholding it always has a price. Have I done what I believe God obliges me to do?
A young man from Clifton Forge whose name I do not know probably got home all right one cold night a few weeks ago. I'm sorry now I missed the opportunity he offered me to be enriched by a small act of selflessness.
by CNB