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Subject: The Cab Ride!
Twenty
years ago, I drove a cab for a living.
When I arrived at 2:30
a.m., the building was dark
except for a single light in a ground
floor window.
Under these circumstances, many drivers would just
honk once or twice, wait a minute, then drive
away.
But I had seen too many impoverished people
who
depended on taxis as their only means
of transportation. Unless a
situation smelled of
danger, I always went to the door. This
passenger
might be someone who needs my assistance,
I reasoned to
myself.
So I walked to the door and knocked.
"Just a
minute", answered a frail,
elderly voice. I could hear
something
being dragged across the floor.
After a long pause, the
door opened.
A small woman in her 80s stood before
me. She was
wearing a print dress and
a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on
it,
like somebody out of a 1940s movie.
By her side was a
small nylon suitcase.
The apartment looked as if no one
had lived
in it for years. All the furniture
was covered with sheets.
There were no clocks
on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters.
In the corner was a cardboard box filled with
photos and glassware. "Would you carry my bag
out to the car?"
she said. I took the suitcase to the cab,
then returned to assist
the woman.
She took my arm and we walked slowly toward
the curb. She kept thanking me for my kindness.
"It's nothing", I
told her. "I just try to treat my
passengers the way I would want
my mother treated".
"Oh, you're such a good boy", she
said.
When we got in the cab, she gave me an
address,
then asked, "Could you drive through downtown?"
"It's
not the shortest way," I answered quickly.
"Oh, I don't
mind," she said. "I'm in no hurry.
I'm on my way to
a hospice".
I looked in the rearview mirror. Her
eyes were glistening.
"I don't have any family left,"
she continued.
"The doctor says I don't have very
long."
I quietly reached over and shut off the meter.
"What route would you like me to take?" I asked.
For
the next two hours, we drove through
the city. She showed me
the building where she
had once worked as an elevator operator.
We drove through the neighborhood where she
and her husband had
lived when they were
newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of
a
furniture warehouse that had once been
a ballroom where she had
gone dancing as a girl.
Sometimes she'd ask me to slow
in front
of a particular building or corner
and would sit staring
into the darkness, saying nothing.
As the first hint of
sun was creasing the horizon,
she suddenly said, "I'm tired.
Let's go now."
We drove in silence to the address she
had given me.
It was a low building, like a small convalescent
home,
with a driveway that passed under a
portico.
Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as
we pulled up.
They were solicitous and intent, watching her every
move.
They must have been expecting her.
I opened
the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door.
The woman
was already seated in a wheelchair.
"How much do I
owe you?" she asked,
reaching into her purse.
"Nothing," I said.
"You have to make a living," she answered.
"There are
other passengers," I responded.
Almost without thinking, I
bent
and gave her a hug. She held onto me
tightly.
"You gave an old woman a little moment of
joy,"
she said. "Thank you."
I squeezed her hand, then
walked into the dim
morning light. Behind me, a door shut. It was
the
sound of the closing of a life.
I didn't pick up
any more passengers that shift.
I drove aimlessly, lost in
thought. For the rest of that
day, I could hardly
talk.
What if that woman had gotten an angry driver,
or
one who was impatient to end his shift?
What if I had refused to
take the run,
or had honked once, then driven
away?
On a quick review, I don't think that I have
done
anything more important in my life.
We're conditioned to think
that our lives revolve
around great moments. But great moments
often catch us unaware--beautifully wrapped in
what others may
consider a small one.
PEOPLE MAY NOT REMEMBER EXACTLY
WHAT `
YOU DID, OR WHAT YOU SAID, BUT THEY
WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER
HOW YOU MADE THEM FEEL.Zechariah 7:10
And
oppress not the widow, nor the fatherless,
the stranger, nor the
poor; and let none of you imagine
evil against his brother in your
heart.
1Corinthians 13:3
And though I bestow all my
goods to feed the poor,
and though I give my
body to be burned, and have not charity,
it profiteth me nothing.
Pass this on to all your
friends and to the person who sent it to you
as well. You
won't get any big surprise in 10 days if you send it to
ten
people. But, you might help make the world a little kinder
and
more compassionate by sending it on.
Thank you, my
friend....Regenia S. for this E-Mail.
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