This story is both funny and sad.
I came home from a Monday night meeting and saw that my neighbor’s lights were still on, so I decided it would be a good time to deliver an apple cream pie to him. I had made the pie earlier as a token of appreciation for him clearing my driveway of snow and salt after the winter’s latest dump.
I rang his doorbell, but he didn’t answer. I guessed he was next door at the triplex he owns because a van advertising solutions to sewer problems was left running outside. Renters don’t call service people on their own.
After realizing that he wasn’t in his home, I was about to set the pie down on his step and go home, knowing that he would see it, know where it came from, and bring it inside to place in his freezer (the pie was already cut up into pieces). But I changed my mind when I saw a stranger walking up his driveway. The man had a huge backpack on his shoulders. He said he was hungry. Well, hell, I’m not going to give him the pie.
He asked for a ride and I told him I wasn’t going anywhere. He sat down on a decorative barrel that holds flowers in warmer months. I told him to leave. He shuffled down the driveway and headed north. I left the pie on the steps.
Catholic guilt got the best of me. I had just attended a funeral the Saturday before and heard the biblical passage of Matthew, Chapter 25, verses 35-40 [Matthew 25: 35-40]
35‘For I was hungry, and you gave Me something to eat; I was thirsty, and you gave Me something to drink; I was a stranger, and you invited Me in; 36naked, and you clothed Me; I was sick, and you visited Me; I was in prison, and you came to Me.’ 37“Then the righteous will answer Him, ‘Lord, when did we see You hungry, and feed You, or thirsty, and give You something to drink? 38‘And when did we see You a stranger, and invite You in, or naked, and clothe You? 39‘When did we see You sick, or in prison, and come to You?’ 40“The King will answer and say to them, ‘Truly I say to you, to the extent that you did it to one of these brothers of Mine, even the least of them, you did it to Me.’
Okay, the bible verse didn’t actually say, “I was walking and you gave me a ride”, but I think the sentiment was the same. I pulled out of the driveway and headed north. I didn’t see him. Perhaps he got a ride from someone else. I went around the block, saw my neighbor and told him the pie was on his step, and began driving north again. I saw the stranger coming out from behind some houses. I rolled the window down and said, “do you still need a ride?” He got into the car.
“Where you going”, I asked him. He mumbled something about a convenience store at the top of the hill. There is a convenience store on Lower Beaver Road, not that far from where we were. Then he said it was near a Perkins restaurant with a gas station across the street and that it might be on Merle Hay Road. “Okay, I know exactly where that it is.”
We get to the intersection of Merle Hay Road and Meredith Avenue and he says, “this isn’t it.” He spotted a McDonalds down the road and said, “I remember that McDonalds, go that way.” So, I make a possible illegal turn and head north on Merle Hay Road. As we get close to the McDonalds, he notices that there is a QuikTrip on the other side of the Interstate and tells me that is the gas station by where he camped.
Under Interstate 35/80 and into the QuikTrip we go. He has second thoughts. I said, “You’re not from around here, are you?” “No, Washington state.” There was no way I was going to drop him off so that he could sleep under a bridge. The temperature thingy on my car’s dashboard indicated that it was 9 degrees outside.
I asked him what he was doing in Iowa. “No one comes to Iowa to bed down for the night in the middle of winter,” I told him. He said he was kicked out of some town in Illinois and went to Idaho. He didn’t want to go through Michigan. “I guess I’m just a rambler,” he said. No, it didn’t make sense to me either and I didn’t want to pursue it further.
He asked if we were in Urbandale. “No”, I said, “we’re in Johnston. He mumbled some things I didn’t understand and asked if we could drive up the road into Johnston. “What are you looking for,” I asked him. “Are you looking for a place to sleep?” I never got a straight reply. He wanted to travel up to the bridge straight ahead. I told him there was no bridge straight ahead and he wanted to argue with me. I once lived in Johnston – on the poor side of town.
“What’s over that way?” he asked.
“Grimes.”
“What’s in Grimes?”
“More houses like these.” I swept my hand over the homes north of 62nd Ave. He told me there was a golf course in Johnston.
“Yes, there is a golf course in Johnston. You’re not thinking of playing a round, are you?”
It was this point in our venture in which I began to either get pissed or scared. I turned around and said nothing more to him.
I pulled into a Casey’s store and asked him if he wanted anything. “Can you get me a maple log and a cup of coffee?”
I went into the store, almost forgetting to shut the car off and take the key with me. I asked the clerk if they had any maple logs. She told me that all the pastries were thrown out for the day. I poured a cup of coffee, put a lid on it, picked up a slice of pepperoni pizza and paid for it all. When I got in the car, I handed it to him.
“I’m taking you to the shelter,” I said.
“The one on University and Ninth?”
Hmm, I hadn’t thought of that one. I was thinking about the one on Mulberry Street. But that’s where I’ll take him; to the closest.
The guy didn’t eat the pizza right away. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see that he was staring at me. Then, he ate the pizza slice in about 3 bites.
On the way to the shelter, he started moving his arms and hands as though he was chasing a fly away and kept repeating: “Oh, Alice. It’s going to be alright.” Yep, he verified that there may be a mental screw out of place.
He asked me if I had any old cars. “This is the only old car I own. It’s the only car I own.” Well, that’s not true, but I think I know where he was going with the questioning. He had been looking for a car to sleep in.
I quit talking to him. A van in the left lane began to merge into our right-hand lane and I reacted quickly. He started rattling off all sorts of incomprehensible mumblings.
Well, I dropped him off at the Bethel Mission on 6th Ave. He got out, threw his backpack over his shoulder and thanked me. I told him to get a good night’s sleep and take care of himself. He closed the car door and I took off down the road. I could see in my mirrors that he did not walk into the mission, but proceeded to walk north, probably in search of an old vehicle with unlocked doors. He had told me earlier that he needs to protect himself and his possessions.
I realized there was nothing more I could do. I turned west onto Indiana Avenue and traveled to 9th street. I turned north onto 9th and when I got to 9th and Clark Streets there was a car with its front wheels stuck in a snowbank. A person was standing by the front of the car looking at the situation.
I quickly turned to the Bible verse. No, there was nothing there that I can recall about “I was stuck in the ditch and you pushed me out.” Nope.