Thursday, June 12, 2014

Without The Sense To Get Out Of The Rain

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I tend to feel sorry for many of my coworkers. A large percentage are what you would think of as the poor and downtrodden. Many are young and seem to barely get enough to eat. A handful of them wear home confinement ankle bracelets.

A couple nights ago, I was sitting in my truck after work, watching about a dozen of them head off into the dark and the pouring rain to wherever they called home. I wished that I could give them all a lift, but my five-passenger truck is effectually made a three-passenger truck by the dog crate and a few other things kept within the confines of the cab. Which two souls would I have saved from a soaking and which ones would I condemn to the storm?


Then I realized something. Most had cigarettes, cell phones and newish tattoos. Many also had body piercings and stylish tennis shoes. Strangely enough, though, not a one had an umbrella, or even a garbage-bag poncho. You can’t save people from themselves. © 2014
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10 comments:

Chickenmom said...

Priorities, Gorges. Maybe someday they will learn what it means.

Lady Locust said...

Priorities I suppose.

deborah harvey said...

you are dead right. they have no home training and maybe their 'home' was never homey.
i see the unwed mothers' brigade pushing their very nice strollers here near their lovely state built homes which are perfectly maintained--not by them, of course-- with its own playground and equipment [upon which i never see any kids playing--probably glued to tv's.]
some of these i've seen tattooed to within an inch of their lives and i have an idea what tattoos cost[$$$$!].
a friend of mine worked briefly for an ob/gyn. most customers unmarried and on the dole. my friend filled out the office forms and one female had listed three cell 'phone numbers. my friend asked, 'why three?'.
the reply? 'they're free. why not?'.
meanwhile, my friend and i each pay 50$ per month for each cell 'phone in our families.
what incentive is there for such people to buy an umbrella or even a garbage bag for a poncho?
as for 'les miserables' with whom you work, they probably live from minute to minute. maybe their home life, possibly for generations, taught them nothing about having hope or goals. right off hand, i'd say that a lot of them have very little imagination and i'll bet their parents never read a storybook to them.
i've met a few and they think you're an idiot if you put back food 'just in case'.
one i asked what would happen if he didn't have a certain supply.
he answered, 'go to the store and get some.'.
i asked what if there were none there, either. he just looked blank.
that's why pray, pray, pray.
only God Himself can help us.
maybe you have this job so your readers will be occasionally reminded how we need to keep our fellow countrymen held before the Lord in prayer and supplication.
many thanks.
deb h.



Gorges Smythe said...

Agreed, Cm & LL.

I'd like to think there's SOME reason I'm there other than blind fate, dh. And I know you're right on the other.

Mamahen said...

Makes me even more thankful for what I have, not a lot by most standards, but I am rich in the fact that I had parents who taught me what's important in life, and my God who is always there and gives me hope for tomorrow!

Sixbears said...

Rain? That's bad luck right? Can't do anything about rain. Besides, umbrellas aren't "cool."

Gorges Smythe said...

Amen, Mh!

Yeah, Sixbears, one MUST be cool. (And they may have been by the time they got home.)

Sunnybrook Farm said...

Wait until the system dies and they can't find a government tit to suck on, they will get like wolves then, only not as smart.

M. Silvius said...

Bet ya they have them fancy full gimmick plan I-phones as well. Drove past a bunch of them on the median strip at the stop lights here in Portland today. You know the kind with the cardboard signs. Couple of them had some awful expensive looking North-Face and Patagonia gear on them.

Gorges Smythe said...

I'm sure that some of them will, SF.

Yeah, one in this area just bought a new car, Michael.