I watched in silence as he struggled down the street. The gloves on his hands were worn and thick calluses had formed where the bare skin met the ground. On his back he carried a metal framed backpack loaded down ith more then he should be able to carry. His arms were now his legs as he swung his body back and forth, using the stubs of his once strong legs as a support. I could see the lines etched over his hardened skin on his face. A large scar ran down the side of his neck. I wondered what kept him going each day as his life had to be harsh. A car suddenly drove past him on the side walk, sending a shower of muddy water over him like he ws not there. I started towards him to lend him a helping hand but he did not wait as he just looked blankly after the car and shook his head. Once again he was moving along the sidewalk, people staring and pointing as he passed them by.
I could feel a pain in my heart for this man. I could tell of the pride he had buried deep inside him, taking his life one day at a time. He politely nodded to all those that passed him and would stop and chat to others that would take the time. I watched as a smile grew on his hardened face as he talked with an elderly couple, sitting and waiting at a bus stop. He was in no hurry and chatted with his ne found friends until their bus came and they had left. He longingly watched after the bus, shrugged his shoulders and then moved along his way. The sun that had shown most of the early morning had quickly vanished and I felt a cool breeze nipping the back of my neck.
Without even understanding why I started following this stranger I had just met, keeping a safe distance behind so as not to look to obvious. Down the street he moved, stopping and waiting with other pedestrians as traffic cleared an intersection and they crossed. I stopped and waited while he stopped and chatted with an elderly newspaper peddler, taking a bundle the man gave him and sliding it into his pack. He reached up and shook the mans hand and I knew that between them there had been a special bond formed. He continued down the street, stopping for a minute to rest his weary arms, before continuing on his way. Suddenly he turned into a dark alley and I wondered where he was headed. Here I was, following a man that had done nothing to me and prying into his life.
I could no longer see the man I had been following. I paused for a couple of minutes before starting down the alley to see where it led me to. I was startled when I heard a rustling just ahead of me, unknowing if it was even safe to be here. I stopped and listened for a second and was about to turn and run when I heard a voice say, “Don’t be afraid, I won’t bite ya or anything.” I looked around, my eyes peering into the darkness when I finally made out a man sitting by an large cardboard box. I walked over and sat down next to him on a pile of newspapers. He looked at me, searching for the reason I had followed him. There was none so I could not answer that question for him. Maybe it was just intriguing to me how he got around town with no legs.
The day quickly became night as we sat there talking, unaware of the time passing us by. He had such a carefree outlook on life, seemingly letting nothing bother him. I shivered slightly from a cool breeze that filled the alley. He asked me if I wanted to come into his house and he would fix us something to eat. I started to refuse but he would have none of it so I nodded my acceptance. I watched as he turned and lifted the large canvas over the end of the box and motioned for me to come in. I hesitated for a second then bending over I moved into the box. I was amazed when I saw the insides as it was not one box but many put together, that he had divided into rooms. This was his home and he was proud enough to welcome people into it. A new appreciation was growing for this man every minute.
He disappeared into another part of his cardboard mansion for a few minutes. Upon his return I saw that he had brought back with him the meal that he had offered earlier. My heart was breaking now knowing I had accepted a meal from a man that had very little to his name. With his calloused trembling hands, I watched as he struck a match and lit a small one burner stove. Placing a pot on the stove he dumped in some noodles and emptied a couple packets into it. Soon the aroma of the meal filled the box as we sat there and talked. He started telling me his life and how he had proudly joined to go off and fight in a distant war. Many of his comrades were killed in combat and yet he had made it back alive, wounded but alive. I listened intently to the bone chilling story as it unfolded.
He told of the family he left behind him as he went off to war and I could see the pain he felt in the tears that were now rolling down his cheeks. When he was sent back to the states, both legs missing from a battle in the war, where mortar had torn through their compound, he found loneliness. His wife had left with his children, leaving behind a message telling him not to come looking for them. His heart was ripping deeply while he continued but he would not stop. I felt a large lump forming in my throat, finding it hard to swallow as I fought back my own tears. He told me how his house had been foreclosed because his wife had taken the money he had sent and used it for her new life. He was not bitter at her and I could tell by his words that he still loved this woman very much.
The military had taught him to survive on little or nothing and that is what he did. He stopped long enough to remove the pot from the stove and load two dishes with noodles and hand one to me. He then reached into a box and pulled out two spoons and handed me one. We sat there quietly, for the next few minutes, eating the steaming hot noodles. Suddenly he broke the silence again as he spoke of the love he and admiration he had for all his comrades that had gone to war with him and valiantly gave their lives. His heart mourned for the loved ones back here that had to endure that loss. I shook my head in agreement as I knew fist hand that war was evil and losses from it carried lifelong scars. We finally finished our meal and I sat back and listened to more and more. Reaching behind him he pulled out a wooden box, the lid having a soldier kneeling in front of a cross. He opened it with trembling hands and I was amazed at what was inside. There laying before me was his life in keepsakes that he had saved.
I saw a soiled picture of him and his family, in a golden colored frame. He had separate pictures of each of his kids that he showed to me. He pulled out a letter and he sobbed as he said, “This is the one that told me good-bye!” I felt a tear form in the corner of my eye, reaching up I quickly wiped it aside. He pulled out his service ribbons and I could see he was well decorated. He was a true hero in my eyes. He handed me the ribbons and my eyes looked from one to another until I was stopped dead in my tracks. There it was laying there in front of me, soiled but still there was no doubt in my mind what I looked at. At the very top of his ribbons laid the highest award of all the Medal Of Honor. As I looked up I saw that he had been watching me. Quickly he said, “Yes that is my Medal Of Honor, given to me for the lives I saved pulling wounded comrades from a life threatening fir fight. I was in total shock and awe, all at the same time.
There sitting before me was an American hero, sheltered in a cardboard box because he had lost everything while serving the country he loved. No angry hard feelings did he shelter towards anyone as he told me there was a reason for everything that happens. I looked back on all the things that I had complained about in my life and I felt so ashamed of myself. Ashamed that I had not realized that no matter how bad there was always someone else who was worse off. Ashamed that I had so much more then I needed and this man had so little and was content with his life. My eyes filled with tears now and I felt the first warm trickles as they slid down my cheek. I was crying for him and also for my pitiful self for being so greedy. I knew that this would be a moment in my life that would change my life forever. Something special had happened here today, and I was now glad that I had followed this proud man. I watched as he put all his keepsakes carefully back in the box and closed the lid. This man of little means would be a hero that I would carry with me the rest of my life.
© Tall Mountain Dreamer October, 6, 2007
