Birmingham, Alabama—A Friday. Chadley was in a good mood. He would be twenty-one in a few days. To celebrate, he would be leaving for Orange Beach with his friends after work.
His job was in a shoe store. It was the sort of place that sold everything. His daily tasks included: stocking, manning a register, and cramming shoes on the stinky feet of bratty kids.
He couldn’t wait to clock out.
Earlier that morning, his father had given him two hundred dollars as a birthday gift. It was going to be the weekend of a lifetime.
A man walked into the shoe store. The man was dressed in rags, he had a long beard. He smelled like a billy goat. His shoes were falling apart.
The fella had crumpled dollars his hand. “Some lady gave me this money,” the old timer said. “I’d like to buy me some shoes.”
It wasn’t enough to buy a pair of flip flops.
Young Chadley looked at the man’s feet. They were bloody.
He bought
the man two pairs of shoes—expensive ones. Then, he bought the man’s lunch. Chadley spent nearly all his birthday money. Then, he tucked his remaining six dollars into the man’s hand.
Our hero never made it to the beach that year.
Panama City, Florida—a man saw a woman in a Home Depot parking lot.
The lady was silver-haired and frail, loading fifty-pound bags of fertilizer into her trunk.
He offered to help. He placed them into her car and nearly ruptured L4, L5, and S1. Then, he followed her home to unload them.
Hers was a rundown single-wide in a mobile home park. She had an overgrown lawn and moldy siding. Her porch was full of flowers that needed planting.
“Who’s gonna plant all those?” he asked.
She shrugged. “Me, I guess. My husband used to help me…