There, but for the grace of God....

This morning, as I sat in the cafe, early in the darkness, I watched an imposing figure approaching.  A large man, whom I instantly recognized as homeless.  I did not see him enter the cafe, but I certainly noticed when he seated himself in an armchair, in a corner opposite my booth, out of view of the staff.  They had not seen him enter the cafe either. The man appeared to be glaring at me, as he settled himself.  I did not look directly at him, so I misread his glance.

I will admit to being nervous, as I realized that he was parking himself with intentions to remain as long as he was not noticed.  After a while I turned my head and noticed that he was curled to the side, resting his head on the side table, silently sleeping there.  My fear did not yet rest. I hurried to get a water and return before he might awaken.  Then I quickly used the ladies room, still afraid to leave my things at the table unattended for too long.  I am now ashamed that I sent a pm to the cafe webpage that there was a homeless man sleeping in their establishment.  And, when I finally made a dash to get a tea and egg for myself, I told the staff - face to face - that there was a homeless man sleeping there.  I was told that he does come in here sometimes. I went back to the pm and deleted it.

An hour later the owner's mother showed up.  She gently woke the sleeping man, and gave him a cup of coffee.  Clearly she had also told him that he could not stay.  He slowly got to his feet, snapped his coat shut as I observed from my corner. I grew more ashamed of myself, and considered offering to buy him some food.... decided that I did not want to find him here every week looking for me to provide him with sustenance.  But I noticed that he had no gloves. It is a very cold morning. He took his cup of coffee and made his way outside.

The homeless man stepped aside from the entrance and stood near a trash bin on the sidewalk.  I took gloves out of my pocket and left my booth. Depositing my now empty plate in the bin I went directly out of the door.  "Excuse me sir. Do you have gloves?" I asked him.  He said that he did not.  "I want you to take these," I told him.  They are just the inexpensive, knit gloves from the discount store, but they will keep his hands warm.  

The homeless man took the gloves from me with a "thank you ma'am."  He smiled just a little bit.  "oh, ma'am, please." he stumbled for the next, then, "do you have, I would like to be able to get a sandwich...."  I look up at a scarred face, receding hair line, one eye not quite right somehow, his brown skin wrinkled from having napped on his coat sleeve.

I took some change out of my pocket, "I can give you some coins." and put the coins in his hand and back away again.  As I turned to rejoin my belongings inside the cafe, he said, "Thank you, ma'am, and you have a nice day."  I told him he was welcome and the same.

There, but for the grace of God, go I....

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clear blue autumn sky

clear, crisp mid-autumn day

blue sky, a few white clouds

trees all yellows, oranges, reds...

memories of country roads

visits to favorite aunts

am radio in the car

meanderings through farmland

nature's majestic beauty

overwhelming the senses

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quiet autumn morn

stillness

quiet

solitude

the raw beauty of nature

of a quiet autumn morn

sensory delight

something about stillness,

silence in nature

is blissful

the four seasons

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John the Blacksmith and Snow the dog

When I was a child my dad would say, "let's go bummin'" and he meant that we would visit someone he knew.  This occurred mostly in the summer time.  Once we set out and traveled a certain distance we could guess where he meant to arrive, at least most of the time.  

One predictable destination was the estate of an old friend of dad.  A man by the name of John Anton.  All I remember of John Anton was that he seemed a veritable mountain of a man; but I was a small girl at the time. I believe that he was well over 6 foot 3 inches tall, and he seemed to be about 3 feet wide. He had been a blacksmith in his younger days, and often a 'smithy' was a very large man, as blacksmithing sometimes required great strength.

I could picture a very large man, bent over an anvil, working on horseshoes; a large horse observing the work.  John Anton was from a era when large, muscular young men were encouraged to learn the craft, a good living to be made from such work.

To be honest I do not have a clear picture of John Anton in my mind.  Mostly he was just a huge mound of man and chair.  He and my father would talk for hours; sometimes quietly, other times boisterously, shouting at each other and laughing.  Their carrying on could be heard from outdoors, where I spent most of my time when visiting the Antons. 

There was a large, white, Great Pyrenees dog, named Snow.  Apropos for a large man and his cheerful German wife, Agnes.  I believe that there are a small number of humans who attract certain animals to them, and that was the case with Snow.  For this dog had just shown up one day, and never left the Antons again.  Snow was a gentle and loving dog, but surely could be fierce if called upon to protect his chosen family.

The Antons also kept chickens.  Hundreds of chickens, housed in three large old yellow school buses. I liked to shout and watch the chickens scatter. They seemed quite stupid to a little girl.

Then I would follow Snow as he made his rounds, and then we would run around, Snow barking and wagging his bushy tail joyously.

As dusk approached I would grow tired and find my way into Agnes Anton's kitchen, where my mother was visiting with Mrs. Anton.  Agnes Anton made sure that we also left with some vegetables from her massive garden; rhubarb, asparagus, or a pie if she had an extra.

I was always quite happy to go visit Snow at the Anton farm, on Johnsburg Road.  


As dusk fell we would make our way home, as the sun made it's way below the horizon and the sky was painted with pinks, oranges, and purples.

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