About four blocks from the house is an extended care facility for elderly folks. Roughly a couple hundred feet from their entrance is a short path. That path leads to or rather connects to the parking lot of a shopping plaza. Like most plazas these days, its occupancy is either half full or half empty. On occasion I have seen a grizzled gent of perhaps 70-75 years of age and with one leg in a wheel chair. The chair must be only 30 or 40 years younger than the man. It is metal, rickety and not motorized. I have noticed that the man wears no gloves and the chair gets stuck in the ice and snow. As well, the path is at an incline causing the man to have to maneuver backwards or risk flying forward much too quickly to control. Also, I have seen him have a b***h of a time getting back up the path. That’s where I come in. I have offered assistance in the past when I have seen him. I’ve guided the chair up or down the path as needed. I’ve always hesitated to offer help because the old dude looks so pissed off or so it would appear. He nevertheless accepts my push or pull with gratitude.
On Monday morning the street plows had inadvertently created a small mound of snow at the top of the path. The man in the chair was stuck there trying in vain to move. The chair rocked back and forth going nowhere. I of course offered my help, which he accepted. When we got to the bottom of the path, we both noticed that the plaza’s lot was barely plowed. He immediately got stuck again. I pushed the chair along and finally asked where he was going. He was headed to the dollar store on the opposite end of the plaza. I moved him along at a steady clip. When we arrived, I was thanked again and continued on my way.
On Tuesday morning the mound of snow at the top of the path was gone however, the old dude was sitting there in his chair, again with no gloves. I should bring him a pair, I thought. As I approached him I asked if he was okay. “Could you just give me a little push?” he asked while adjusting himself in his seat. Once at the bottom of the path he was on his own. He then immediately rode the chair into a patch of ice and got stuck. I unstuck him and again off to the dollar store we went. “Glad to help and have a great day,” I told him.
On Wednesday… (See Monday and Tuesday).
On Thursday… (See Monday, Tuesday and then Wednesday). The only change was that the two guys who remove snow for the plaza greeted me along the way.
On Friday there was a bit of a snow storm with a great deal of wind. The man was not at his usual spot at the top of the path. I continued on through to the plaza walk. I saw one of the snow workers who asked, “Where’s your friend?” He meant the old man in the wheelchair. Snow removal dude went on to tease me about pushing the guy. I don’t remember his exact words but, he made it sound as if I had been taken horrible advantage of by the old man. There was a hint of anger in his voice. Indeed, I had for about a split second noticed that pushing the man had somehow become my “job.” I had quickly let those thoughts perish. I gave snow removal dude a big smile and nod indicating, “I know what you mean.” Actually, I did not really know what he meant. I did not quite understand why this was such a problem for him.
As I continued along, I now started to wonder and question why the old man was there every morning. Why did he need to go to the dollar store every day? And for god’s sake, why did he not pick up a pair of gloves while he was there? Who knows? The best that I can come up with is that the dollar store must be a part of his daily routine, his outing. Perhaps, he has waited for me each morning because he now looks forward to someone being kind to him. Perhaps, I had not taken a moment to reach this conclusion before because on some level I ready knew this.
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