E T Waldron, click
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Blogs by E T Waldron
Sing Your Own Song 1/17/2005 10:52:02 PM
to help or not to help that is the question
In the country a shabbily dressed man
worn jeans, and tee shirt, shoulder-length
gray/brown unkempt hair, walking idly in the
middle of the road. I pulled up alongside him
in my car rolled down the window asked if I could help, he ignored me, kept shuffling along barley able to lift his feet, I could hear a sort of
droning sound from his mouth, not quite a hum
perhaps a mantra...I contiued alongside him
wanting to see if he had heard me, the thought
came that he might be deaf... I asked again
louder" Can I give you a lift or something?"
no response,didn't even look my way
I pondered what to do, on closer inspection I
guessed his age to be about 50, still young
rough good looks,eyes squinting at the sun
so I couldn't tell his thoughts...I was about
to ask again when he stopped, looked at me
and said in a hoarse, but soft voice, "Why don't
you just go on, don't trouble yourself about me."
then he continued on, I decided to do as he
asked and picked up speed leaving him behind
but something troubled my spirit, and I parked
on the side of the road waiting for him to come by
There hadn't been one other car so far, this was
a very lonely part of the country and why I took
drives out this way to get away from the bustle
of city life I said a prayer asking for guidance on
what to do...he came into view still shuffling as
if he wouldn't make the last step...I was out of the car so I walked over to him with one of the small bottled waters I keep with me. He stopped stared at
me with deep sorrowful but wise eyes took the
bottle and drank it all in one gulp,
mumbled thanks and went back to walking again
I asked him to please let me give him a lift at
least some of the way to where he was going
there was nothing there for miles around, he
stopped, looked back at me, then asked "Lady
why are you doing this?" I said " There is a strong feeling within that has told me to help you, and I just can't let go of it." He told me to wait he'd be right
back. I knew he was going to relieve himself in a few minutes he was back and we took off I asked where he
was heading f,he looked at me and said"I don't even
know where I am, just let me off whenever you get to
where you are going."
I could hardly hold back the tears, I drove in
silence for a few miles, thinking of what to say
hoping I'd get a clue as to what to do. He was
totally silent...it was eerie, finally the thought came, "By the way, my name is Eileen, and I
just had a thought. My cousin lives about 20 miles
from here and has a small coop vineyard, he needs
help would you be interested?
He gave me that stare again as if trying to see
into my soul, then said " My name is Joe, I
doubt if I could help,I know nothing about
vineyards and don't care to learn, why not just
drop me off at the next stop sign."
I was getting discouraged, this man seemed to be determined not to be helped and after all it is his life I have no reason to interfere and tell him what
he has to do with it.That is his decision. I pulled over to the side of the road and stopped. I turned to him and said "I just realized that I have no right to get you to do what I think is best for you. That is your decision to make. I've given you some water, asked what I can do to help gave you a ride, now I'm giving you fifty dollars if you'll take it, and I will drop you off near a town where you can get some food or whatever, and be on my way. Is that okay?
He looked at me for a minute, just when I thought he
wasn't going to answer, he said "Eileen, you almost make me want to believe again. But not quite. I'll take the fifty, I could use some food and a bed for a change.And I'll thank you for having a good heart, and I'll be on my way, no stories, that's it. Is that good enough?" I looked into his eyes, said "Yes! "Gave him the fifty, drove to the nearest town , dropped him off and we said good- bye. He did say thank you Ma'am. As I drove home I said a prayer, and realized that the old adage was true.
" Let every man sing his own song in life."
...John A. Widtsoe
