Warrior On Aisle Seven

 

I tried not to look. No, that's not true, I told myself not to, but I actually did. My eyes were quickly and directly trained on the card he pulled awkwardly from the front shirt pocket of his filthy flannel shirt. The casual conversation between my ears..."what's your deal Greg", while instinctively and conspicuously, I  scanned the contents of his buggy, in search of exhibits to offer as evidence to support my preset-default conclusion that this guy didn't need gov't help buying food. 

His khaki pants were soiled, worn, and torn and decorated with stains, spots, and spills from front to back and his shoes were tired and worn. Literally, yes literally,... Navy beans, rice, a loaf of bread, and a six-pack of beer. A gentle, but long-overdue wave of compassion washed over me, just as I caught a glimpse of his face and we locked eyes for a fraction of a second. We had a complete conversation in a flash.

Yes, he certainly had more trips around the sun on me. But, it was the tightness of his skin on his cheek-bones and a haunting, but savage, wolverine look in his eyes that told me immediately that he was a vet. He slightly hung and turned his head, as he pulled the card from the machine and awkwardly shoved it back in his front shirt pocket. That's when I noticed that his left shirt sleeve swung back and forth freely. Yes, he'd lost his left arm, somewhere along the way. Suddenly, I saw him very differently. I was pulsed with remorse and mercy and deep respect. 

I wanted to buy his groceries, to pay a house payment, car note, prescription costs or something!! Like a wild, but wounded lion, he picked up his humble bag of food and walked towards the door, an absolute superhero in my eyes.

Yea, big deal, I paid for my own groceries this afternoon, but that man paid for my freedom decades ago and is still paying tonight and will pay for the balance of his days. 

   

Growing with the Grass

Seattle, 1972 "It's hard to scoop dog poop in tall grass."

Allentown, 1974  "Wow! Dad sure can throw our lawnmower, when it won't start."

Allentown, 1977 "I hate cutting grass!" 

Dublin, 1983 "Maybe grass isn't quite so bad." 

Dublin, 1991 "Apartment life sucks! Maybe one day I'll have a place of my own with thick green grass." 

Macon, 1996 "It's a rental, but we'll need a lawnmower to cut this grass." 

Thomson, 1998 "Wow! Sure feels good to cut your own grass! Even smells better."

Thomson, 2003 "Better hit the yard real quick, while the wife and kids are napping."

Thomson, 2005 "I love cutting grass. It's free therapy." 

Thomson, 2008 "It's hard watching your son cut grass, but he really needs this."

Thomson, 2013 "Look at that! I've got kids cutting grass, weed eating, and pressure washing!"

Thomson, 2015 "It's nice to come home and your kids have cut the grass without being asked." 

Thomson, 2017 "I'd ask the kids to help with the grass, but I know they've got other things to do."

Thomson, 2019 "Cleaning up the yard for the 4th, while praying for my high school daughter and her sister and brothers, who leave for college in a few weeks."