MY NEIGHBORHOOD
When you grow old with a neighborhood it’s hard to see it objectively. The days of the bright new convenience store that I’d patronize for my morning cup of coffee long ago before the first twinkle of sunlight are long past. My neighborhood was fairly new back then and I settled into the community that I’d call home for decades and still do.
I pulled up to the faded gas pumps with the white needle on my gas gauge swimming in the Red Sea. The once proud concrete is cracked and saturated with oil stains. It’s darker than the surrounding surface which on that occasion would be a misleading title of “black top”.
I really didn’t notice how the elements and time had worn my neighborhood as well as myself until I’d spotted the strolling man make his way across the four-lane street that I’d once used for a shortcut back when it was just a dirt road.
The closely shaved headed man with whiskers to match looked to be around my age. Our eyes locked for a second until he glanced away. The man caught my eye a few moments later when he bent over to pick up something in the parking lot.
Just outside the double glass doors of the convenience store, he hit a gold mine. He picked up a few more small items and slipped one into his mouth, fetched a lighter out of his oversized pants and lit up a partially used cigarette.
I took a closer look at the frugal man who was not remotely germ-o-phobic. His clothes must have cost him about as much as his cigarettes. His jeans were much too wide and were cinched around his modest hips in clumps. The blue jeans were fat cuffed at the bottom from too many rolls. His brownish green sweater would have most certainly won him first prize at any ugly Christmas sweater contest.
There wasn’t anything like him around these parts thirty years ago. But then it dawned on me that I’m not anything like I was thirty years ago either. I have cracks and lines like the old streets and sidewalks. And despite all the maintenance, all things wear out. It is the design and process in this fallen world.
I clicked the pump handle over and over until it landed on an even number with no cents behind it, glanced around for the cigarette scrounger, slipped the tired gas pump back into its cradle and headed south.
I spotted the bum looking for more used smokes behind the store.
We’re all wearing out and in search of things to comfort us. Comfort and satisfaction in this flesh are fleeting. We can get rest, not so different than filling up a gas tank, but one day rest or fuel just won’t be enough.
My guess is that the cigarette bum might check out a little earlier, but we all checkout. It’s not a matter of if, but when… yet, more importantly, is Where.
I’ll keep my eye out for the used cigarette chain smoker. He’s not in my neighborhood by chance.
Betty Draper
Sunday, March 6, 2016 @ 12:11 pm
As always you spin the story just enough to make your readers wonder where will you end. Unlike a non believer stories, true or not, yours always ends with God in the picture. In my minds eye I can see such a man and in my minds eye you are talking to him just as your write with familiar words filled with compassion and leading Him to the one who cares for his soul. This was not a chance scene, great post brother.
Diane
Saturday, March 12, 2016 @ 10:41 am
I ditto every word Betty said, Floyd. Every word!
Bill (cycleguy)
Sunday, March 6, 2016 @ 1:22 pm
It does not surprise me that you would keep looking for that tired old man. And when you do find him, I suspect a meal and a conversation about eternity will follow. That’s just you. And I am impressed with that.
Cheryl
Sunday, March 6, 2016 @ 7:12 pm
I feel like God will surely bring this poor soul across your path again…and I wouldn’t doubt the fact that you will even go pursuing after him. Your heart is full of compassion, and you notice people, and you care enough to not only notice them, but to go beyond yourself and reach out to them. Those are very rare qualities these days. Somehow, I believe this post will have a part two, and I can’t wait to read it. Thank you for sharing your heart here…I never leave here without being abundantly blessed.
Sharon
Monday, March 7, 2016 @ 12:45 pm
Love your descriptions, Floyd, especially of the cigarette man. And I love the way your heart listens to the promptings of the Spirit. Yes, this man has not crossed your path by *coincidence*. And your heart knows that because you’re on the lookout for opportunities to talk about our Lord. You are not only a hearer, but a doer. God is well pleased.
And, on a lighter note, I’m glad to know that I am not the only person who makes a point of executing the *Perfect Pump* at the gas station. Don’t you hate it when you work so hard to do it, and then a twitch takes you to “00.01”??? That extra cent makes me so mad. Because then I have to do the second-best pump – landing on either 10¢ or 25¢ or 50¢. Grrr…
GOD BLESS!
June
Monday, March 7, 2016 @ 12:53 pm
I don’t remember where I read it, but it was a quote from a homeless person, “We just want to be noticed.” You notice people, Floyd. Part of that is your personality, but the bulk of it is your God-given gift. You notice, you care, and you put feet on your faith. Thank you for always encouraging us to do the same. Blessings, brother.
Barb Raveling
Monday, March 7, 2016 @ 4:05 pm
That’s funny that you bring your gas amount to an even number. My husband does that too. I just let ‘er rip and whatever amount I end up with, that’s what it takes! I agree with June – you’re good at noticing people and also letting us experience that with you. It’s a great gift!
Pam
Monday, March 7, 2016 @ 4:26 pm
Doesn’t it make you curious about his story? What brought him to this point in his life? Our associate pastor often says just one or two different decisions in our lives and we could be the person living on the street–or hunting for used smokes.
Hazel Moon
Monday, March 7, 2016 @ 5:13 pm
Our neighborhood where our kids were raised, has changed so much. My old home place was torn down when we all left home and Dad retired, and he built a 4 plex on the large lot. Circumstances caused them to sell and move when my sister left her husband and returned to Calif. So much water under the bridge. I walk our property and view the cracks in the pavement due to large tree roots. Yes, our earth suit is also growing older and time will tell when it is turned in for a new body. Your homeless man, is a picture of many we see on our streets. May God grant him and you a conversation in the near future. Thank you for sharing with us here at Tell me a True Story.
Joanne Norton
Tuesday, March 8, 2016 @ 6:50 pm
What you told about is what reality strikes again. I could tell you much re: my life… even when I was 18 to 25 re: what was going on around about me strongly, and even until I was 38. Stuff in and through me and in and through my home with my former husband. AND my parents, of course. SO, much of what you were describing is what I’ve seen many times in my life. AND my kids and grandkids are going through that same stuff, too. Sorry to yammer too much, but always appreciate what and how you are sharing to and for many in our nation and the world. Bless you, Bro. 😉
Jennifer Dougan
Tuesday, March 8, 2016 @ 9:03 pm
Hi Floyd,
Fun to peek into your neighborhood and thoughts. “It’s not a matter of if but when and where…” hmmm. That’s the real point, huh? Sobering and brings urgency to me tonight.
Re your comment on my post “Of Parties and Time Capsules,” Floyd, yes, your kids are welcome to do this Leap year thing. They should! It’s been so much fun. You and your wife could join them too. I’ve found it’s a little bit like a journal and God reassessment time put away in a time capsule.
Hopping over to say hi at your site too,
Jennifer Dougan
http://www.jenniferdougan.com
Jason Stasyszen
Wednesday, March 9, 2016 @ 10:17 am
A little comfort, a little rest. Yes, there are things in this world that help for a moment, but He is the only hope for eternity and we have to allow nothing to steal that. Not that it’s easy! Good stuff, my friend. Thanks Floyd.