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Five Bucks
By Chris Kratsch
When I was in college I was poor. So poor, in fact, that I often
found myself out of food. One day I spent my last two dollars on four
loaves of bread, and didn't know where my next meal would come from once
those were gone.
I decided to call my mother. She had said she couldn't afford to send
me anything the last time I spoke to her, but I thought perhaps her
mother could spare twenty bucks.
There was a pay phone in a nearby campus building. My bread and I
headed over there. I called my mother collect, but before I could
explain that I wasn't asking her for money, she became very upset and
hung up. I called my father to see if he could explain things to my
mother. Then I noticed someone else waiting behind me for the phone.
This man was probably a teacher between classes. My father put me on
hold to call my mother on the other line, and I leaned my forehead
against the cool concrete brick wall. I could feel the frustration and
hopelessness building up inside me.
The man spoke: "Other people have to use the phone, too, you know."
That was enough to put me over the edge. I turned to this stranger
and yelled, "See this bag on the floor? That has all my food in it! I
don't have a phone at home to call from! I'm sorry if your cell phone is
broken, but whatever call you have to make is less important than my
trying to come up with tomorrow's meal!"
I turned back to the wall and tried to choke back the tears brought
on by my speaking my plight aloud. Very shortly, I realized that I
shouldn't have taken my frustrations out on this person. My father came
back to the phone, and I told him I'd call him back. Putting myself back
together as well as I could, I hung up the phone.
"I'm sorry," I said quietly. "I shouldn't have done that. You can use
the phone." I stepped back to sit in a window ledge where I could hide
my very obvious emotional state, and cried.
I wasn't paying attention to the man anymore, but he must have
finished his phone call quickly enough. His hand tapped my shoulder and
I turned. He put a five dollar bill in my hand and said, "Give this to
someone else when they need it." He walked away, neither asking for
gratitude nor giving pity.
There could have been no better delivery, and no better gift! Five
dollars could last me a week in those days. Somehow this man knew
exactly what to say to allow both of us to go through the rest of the
day with dignity.
That was many years ago, and I have repaid that gift a hundred fold
by now, always delivering it with the same dignity that was afforded me.
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