Patience, baby!
Patience! Saturday will be here before you know it. Then your next adventure
begins!
On
the ramp to I-40 West, I immediately came upon a well-groomed man standing
beside an oversized suitcase, clutching a pet carrier and holding a handmade
sign. The sign simply said: “Oregon”. I could have easily bypassed him, but not the two of them. Besides, it looked like rain and I was already missing
Major, my co-pilot. What can I say? I’m easy.
“Hop
in, sir. I’m not going to Oregon, but I’ll take you as far as I can.”
“Thank
you for stopping. Looks like the weather might get ugly. My name is Frank, and
this here is Jake,” he said while pointing to the small mixed breed dog in the
fiberglass crate.
“Nice
to meet you both,” I replied.
During
our first thirty miles of conversation, I learned he was an Iraqi war vet
— a Marine, no less. He was currently a contract carpenter from Oregon,
who had been working in northern Virginia, at least until his recent fall off a
roof. With no worker’s comp or personal insurance to cover his injuries, he’d
decided to hitch his way back home. He and his poor canine were on their way
back to somewhere in Oregon.
“If
you can’t work, you don’t get paid,” he confessed. “And if you don’t get paid,
you can’t eat. Hopefully, there is still work and food back in Silverton …”
There
was sadness in his eyes, so deeply sad that I dared not press further for
answers. As I understood, six weeks ago he started home and made it as far
south as Roanoke, when his truck blew up on I-81. The highway patrol stopped
and told him it had to be moved off the highway. With no money to repair it,
the towing company hauled it away, along with all the tools that were his
self-sustaining lifeline, and he couldn’t pay to get them back.
“It’s
taken you six weeks just to get to Cookeville?” I asked in disbelief.
“Yes,
sir. Every bit of it,” he replied. “Oh, I’ve picked up an odd job every now and
then to feed the dog and me, but that’s about it. Everybody today is just too
afraid to stop and pick up hitchhikers.” Frank shrugged his shoulders in
defeat. “All I know to do is keep walking.”
“At
this rate, Frank, you won’t make it home until Christmas.”
“It
is what it is, I’m afraid. I have no close family to speak of, except Jake
here. I guess I will get there when
I get there. On the brighter side, I do have a few friends back home. They’ll
put me up until I can get back on my feet. I don’t know what I’ll do without
tools, though. It’s hard to show up to the 'man's' job-site with nothing to
work with.”
Starting
over is relative, I
thought. Just what do I have to complain about, compared to Frank’s current
odyssey?
“How
about I get you a bus ticket in Nashville so you can get home?”
“You
know, someone else offered me a ticket a few weeks ago, after I picked up an
odd job in Bristol, VA. But they won’t let me take the dog on the bus.”
“I
didn’t even think about that, Frank. I’m sorry.” I pondered on it a bit. “Okay.
I’ve got another idea. Just tell me what big city in Oregon, Silverton is
near.”
“If
I can get to Portland, I promise you I can get home,” offered Frank, somewhat
puzzled.
“No
problem. I think I’ve got this.” Picking up my cell, I dialed Southwest
Airlines, which has a major hub in Nashville. I booked two tickets to Portland
leaving at 1 p.m. “Jake can ride beside you, sir. Just make sure you keep him
in the crate most of the time.” I winked.
“You’re
buying me two tickets to Portland? I … I…” Tears began streaming down his
rugged, weatherworn face. “How can I ever repay you?” he asked. “I have nothing
right now, but I promise you, I will pay you back when I get back on my feet.”
“Whether
you believe me or not, Frank, you’ve given me a greater appreciation for my own
current circumstance. That, sir, is payment enough. Someday soon, when you
Patience! Saturday will be here before you know it. Then your next adventure
begins!
On
the ramp to I-40 West, I immediately came upon a well-groomed man standing
beside an oversized suitcase, clutching a pet carrier and holding a handmade
sign. The sign simply said: “Oregon”. I could have easily bypassed him, but not the two of them. Besides, it looked like rain and I was already missing
Major, my co-pilot. What can I say? I’m easy.
“Hop
in, sir. I’m not going to Oregon, but I’ll take you as far as I can.”
“Thank
you for stopping. Looks like the weather might get ugly. My name is Frank, and
this here is Jake,” he said while pointing to the small mixed breed dog in the
fiberglass crate.
“Nice
to meet you both,” I replied.
During
our first thirty miles of conversation, I learned he was an Iraqi war vet
— a Marine, no less. He was currently a contract carpenter from Oregon,
who had been working in northern Virginia, at least until his recent fall off a
roof. With no worker’s comp or personal insurance to cover his injuries, he’d
decided to hitch his way back home. He and his poor canine were on their way
back to somewhere in Oregon.
“If
you can’t work, you don’t get paid,” he confessed. “And if you don’t get paid,
you can’t eat. Hopefully, there is still work and food back in Silverton …”
There
was sadness in his eyes, so deeply sad that I dared not press further for
answers. As I understood, six weeks ago he started home and made it as far
south as Roanoke, when his truck blew up on I-81. The highway patrol stopped
and told him it had to be moved off the highway. With no money to repair it,
the towing company hauled it away, along with all the tools that were his
self-sustaining lifeline, and he couldn’t pay to get them back.
“It’s
taken you six weeks just to get to Cookeville?” I asked in disbelief.
“Yes,
sir. Every bit of it,” he replied. “Oh, I’ve picked up an odd job every now and
then to feed the dog and me, but that’s about it. Everybody today is just too
afraid to stop and pick up hitchhikers.” Frank shrugged his shoulders in
defeat. “All I know to do is keep walking.”
“At
this rate, Frank, you won’t make it home until Christmas.”
“It
is what it is, I’m afraid. I have no close family to speak of, except Jake
here. I guess I will get there when
I get there. On the brighter side, I do have a few friends back home. They’ll
put me up until I can get back on my feet. I don’t know what I’ll do without
tools, though. It’s hard to show up to the 'man's' job-site with nothing to
work with.”
Starting
over is relative, I
thought. Just what do I have to complain about, compared to Frank’s current
odyssey?
“How
about I get you a bus ticket in Nashville so you can get home?”
“You
know, someone else offered me a ticket a few weeks ago, after I picked up an
odd job in Bristol, VA. But they won’t let me take the dog on the bus.”
“I
didn’t even think about that, Frank. I’m sorry.” I pondered on it a bit. “Okay.
I’ve got another idea. Just tell me what big city in Oregon, Silverton is
near.”
“If
I can get to Portland, I promise you I can get home,” offered Frank, somewhat
puzzled.
“No
problem. I think I’ve got this.” Picking up my cell, I dialed Southwest
Airlines, which has a major hub in Nashville. I booked two tickets to Portland
leaving at 1 p.m. “Jake can ride beside you, sir. Just make sure you keep him
in the crate most of the time.” I winked.
“You’re
buying me two tickets to Portland? I … I…” Tears began streaming down his
rugged, weatherworn face. “How can I ever repay you?” he asked. “I have nothing
right now, but I promise you, I will pay you back when I get back on my feet.”
“Whether
you believe me or not, Frank, you’ve given me a greater appreciation for my own
current circumstance. That, sir, is payment enough. Someday soon, when you
Similar Books
