An effort made for the happiness of others lifts us above ourselves.
~Lydia M. Child

I live in a small, rural town in Connecticut. In our town, a man, probably in his late forties or early fifties, is often seen wandering about town, usually pushing an old shopping cart. Sometimes, he is just walking slowly and carrying a plastic bag. His gait is stiff and labored. His clothes are rumpled and appear old. He picks up trash and bottles and cans that he finds for recycling. At first glance, most people assume he is homeless and most likely an alcoholic or drug addict.

I had my first good look at him one day when he was in the grocery store turning in the tickets he had collected for the five-cent recycled bottles and cans deposit. I noticed how the customers around him at the courtesy counter looked at him in disgust.

The weather that day was really nasty with a cold, driving rain. This man was soaking wet and the water was literally dripping off him. I was walking out of the store, and he turned to leave at the same time. Our eyes met, and I impulsively asked him if he needed a ride somewhere. He smiled genuinely and accepted gladly. He had goodness in his soul; I could feel it.

I’d never done this before. I am a sixty-two-year-old woman, and time has taught me to be cautious. I’ve never picked up a hitchhiker or a stranger. If I see someone in distress, I will call the authorities for assistance. But something compelled me to speak to this man.

When we got to my car, I noticed that he did not smell at all and there was certainly not a hint of alcohol on him. As I drove, he talked a little bit. His sentences were almost childlike. He told me that his name was Jerry. He commented to me that he used to have a car and a job, and he drove everywhere. But then he had a bad accident, so he couldn’t drive anymore because of a brain injury. He had to take a lot of medicine.

Jerry explained that he likes to be outside, so he walks a lot. He likes to pick up trash so the town will look nicer. And anything he can recycle gives him a little bit of extra money until his disability check comes in. He also told me that the grocery store doesn’t want him to go inside anymore because they said it bothers the customers.

Jerry lives with his parents on a rural road just outside the center of town. I drove him to his residence in a modest mobile home. He thanked me and went inside.

Now, whenever I see Jerry, I honk my horn and wave to him. He waves back with a big smile on his face. I’ve asked him a few more times if he needs a ride, but he has always declined, saying he likes to be out in the fresh air.

I wonder how many people incorrectly judge this man? Jerry is just a man who had something terrible happen to him and is just trying to live his life peacefully now as a traumatic brain injury survivor. What happened to Jerry could happen to any of us. I don’t read the Bible regularly, but I know bits of it. I’m reminded of Matthew 7:1 where Jesus said, “Do not judge, or you too will be judged.”

Everyone has a story. Most of the time, we don’t bother to listen to the stories. We go about our day with our minds stuck in our own little worlds. I advise everyone to take the time to observe and really listen to what people have to say. Take a chance and start a simple conversation with a stranger. You will be amazed by who you meet and what you can learn.

~Debi Smith Pouliot