It was going on 6:15 PM as the hitch hiking veteran and I rode west on I-40 toward Mocksville - I in the driver seat and he in the passenger seat. I had turned the heat up to help my passenger warm his chilled bones.
We hadn't gotten far on the interstate when I had a moment of panic, like when a person thinks they left the stove on.
"Do you see a black hip pack in the back seat?" I asked my passenger. "I don't recall putting it in the car. I hope I didn't leave it at Kentucky Fried Chicken."
My black leather hip pack carried my money and credit cards and identification.
"I see a green one," he answered.
"That's not it; that's my hiking hip pack. I better pull off at the next exit and make sure I have it."
Relieved to find it in the back seat under my coat, I drove us back onto the interstate heading west to the Mocksville truck stop.
"I've done some hiking on the Appalachian Trail," my passenger said after we were back on the road. Earlier when we loaded his gear into the back of my Explorer, he had asked about my trekking poles which lay in the back of the Explorer along with blankets and a day pack.
"Where abouts?" I asked.
"Northern Virginia, between Charlottesville and DC. I used to spend time there as a boy."
I recalled earlier when he shared that he was from Culpepper, Virginia.
"Where does you sister live?" I asked.
"She lives in Culpepper," he responded.
"What branch of service did you serve in?"
"The Navy," he answered. "I signed up right after graduating high school in 1976."
That was one year before I graduated from high school. He wasn't as old as I thought he was. I guess I'm getting up in years
"Where did you serve?" I continued my inquiry.
"I went to basic at Great Lakes and then spent time in Norfolk. I was only in for four years; I didn't serve in any wars."
"Would you happen to have any ibuprofen or aspirin?" he asked.
"I don't," I answered. "I'm allergic to them. I'm sure the truck stop will have some."
Then I recalled I had a couple first aid kits in the back seat.
"I do have a couple first aid kits in the car; maybe there is some one of them. I'll check when we stop."
I saw a billboard advertising Truck Stop America ahead.
****
On my way home from the dentist... (part one)
On my way home from the dentist... (part two)
On my way home from the dentist... (part three)
On my way home from the dentist... (part four)
****
March 9, 2014
March 7, 2014
On my way home from the dentist... (part two)
"Are you traveling on foot?" I asked in a friendly tone. I didn't want to use the word "homeless."
The man was clean cut, his clothes neat and well arranged. He had on blue jeans, a button up long sleeve shirt with what looked like some sort of a Native American pin where the top buttons of the shirt came together. He wore brown leather work boots. He had a gray mustache. Tufts of gray hair bordered the edge of his warm hat. He looked to be in his sixties and was missing at least one lower tooth.
"I'm on my way to the VA hospital near Asheville, in Oteen," he responded.
"Where are you coming from?" I asked.
"Virginia. I've been to the VA in Richmond in the past, but I don't like that hospital. Oteen has taken better care of me, so I want to get to Oteen."
I was familiar with both VA Hospitals from when Dad was alive.
I asked the man if he was hungry. He gladly accepted my box of morsels, but was more interested in getting warm.
"Do you think you could buy me a cup of coffee? I'm chilled to the bone."
"Sure," I responded. "What size?"
"Small or medium is fine."
I went to the counter and asked if they sold coffee, but they didn't.
"Do you sell any hot beverage?" I asked.
"No; I'm sorry," the cashier replied.
I walked back to the booth, no coffee in hand.
The veteran shared some of his story. I asked some questions, but not too many.
He was from Culpepper, Virginia. He had stayed in a homeless shelter in Virginia recently, but it had a limit of only two weeks. He was apparently hitch hiking his way to Oteen; he had suffered an aneurysm in the past and was concerned about his health again. Yesterday a man had given him a ride from Mebane and had put him up at the Holiday Inn last night here in Clemmons. A lady had washed the couple changes of clothes he had with him. The veteran had been trying to get a ride all day at the I-40 westbound ramp just down the road with no luck. He needed a place out of the cold tonight. He wanted to know if there were any places nearby open 24 hours where he might stay warm.
He seemed genuine. Right or wrong, I believed his story. I mentioned the homeless shelter in downtown Winston as a 24-hour place. He didn't want that; his goal was Oteen. I thought about the bus station; it was open 24 hours. I didn't mention it because the bus station probably wasn't a place to linger all night long. At that moment, it didn't cross my mind to buy him a bus ticket to Oteen.
I thought how I'd like to take him home and give him a warm place to stay. Hubby and I would be heading west Friday night and going right past Oteen, which was over two hours away. But last time I took in a homeless person, it didn't work out too well. A friend had said to me, "Carol, most people take in stray animals. You take in stray people."
The veteran's sister was supposed to wire him some money on Thursday; he had a dollar and some change left in cash. He thought he'd be in Oteen by Thursday, but here it was Wednesday evening and he still hadn't made it. His larger suitcase on wheels had been stolen. He had parked it for a moment outside a truck stop while he went in to get some coffee and go to the bathroom. He came out, and it was gone. Most of his clothes and his medical records had been in the stolen suitcase. He didn't share in a complaining manner, but rather with a disappointment that people would steal and yet with gratitude for the all the good in life.
"The man who put me up last night mentioned a truck stop in a place called Mocksville?"
"I think there is a Truck Stop America there. Mocksville is only about a ten-minute drive from here." I responded.
I pondered what I could do to help the man. I really didn't want to miss my writing workshop which started in less than two hours. But I was willing to miss it if needed. Ice was supposed to hit the Piedmont area on Thursday night; he needed to get west before it hit.
"I can take you to Oteen tonight, if you'd like. Or I can take you down to the truck stop, if you prefer."
"Well, if I get to Oteen late tonight, it wouldn't do any good. They can't see me until the day time hours."
"But it'd put you right there for in the morning."
He thought for a moment, "I think I'd rather try the truck stop. I feel sure I can get a ride from there to Oteen tomorrow." He seemed tired, like he just wanted to rest somewhere and get warm and start traveling again on Thursday.
We loaded his items in the back of my 1999 Ford Explorer and headed west on I-40 for the ten-minute drive to locate the truck stop.
****
On my way home from the dentist... (part one)
On my way home from the dentist... (part two)
On my way home from the dentist... (part three)
On my way home from the dentist... (part four)
****
The man was clean cut, his clothes neat and well arranged. He had on blue jeans, a button up long sleeve shirt with what looked like some sort of a Native American pin where the top buttons of the shirt came together. He wore brown leather work boots. He had a gray mustache. Tufts of gray hair bordered the edge of his warm hat. He looked to be in his sixties and was missing at least one lower tooth.
"I'm on my way to the VA hospital near Asheville, in Oteen," he responded.
"Where are you coming from?" I asked.
"Virginia. I've been to the VA in Richmond in the past, but I don't like that hospital. Oteen has taken better care of me, so I want to get to Oteen."
I was familiar with both VA Hospitals from when Dad was alive.
I asked the man if he was hungry. He gladly accepted my box of morsels, but was more interested in getting warm.
"Do you think you could buy me a cup of coffee? I'm chilled to the bone."
"Sure," I responded. "What size?"
"Small or medium is fine."
I went to the counter and asked if they sold coffee, but they didn't.
"Do you sell any hot beverage?" I asked.
"No; I'm sorry," the cashier replied.
I walked back to the booth, no coffee in hand.
The veteran shared some of his story. I asked some questions, but not too many.
He was from Culpepper, Virginia. He had stayed in a homeless shelter in Virginia recently, but it had a limit of only two weeks. He was apparently hitch hiking his way to Oteen; he had suffered an aneurysm in the past and was concerned about his health again. Yesterday a man had given him a ride from Mebane and had put him up at the Holiday Inn last night here in Clemmons. A lady had washed the couple changes of clothes he had with him. The veteran had been trying to get a ride all day at the I-40 westbound ramp just down the road with no luck. He needed a place out of the cold tonight. He wanted to know if there were any places nearby open 24 hours where he might stay warm.
He seemed genuine. Right or wrong, I believed his story. I mentioned the homeless shelter in downtown Winston as a 24-hour place. He didn't want that; his goal was Oteen. I thought about the bus station; it was open 24 hours. I didn't mention it because the bus station probably wasn't a place to linger all night long. At that moment, it didn't cross my mind to buy him a bus ticket to Oteen.
I thought how I'd like to take him home and give him a warm place to stay. Hubby and I would be heading west Friday night and going right past Oteen, which was over two hours away. But last time I took in a homeless person, it didn't work out too well. A friend had said to me, "Carol, most people take in stray animals. You take in stray people."
The veteran's sister was supposed to wire him some money on Thursday; he had a dollar and some change left in cash. He thought he'd be in Oteen by Thursday, but here it was Wednesday evening and he still hadn't made it. His larger suitcase on wheels had been stolen. He had parked it for a moment outside a truck stop while he went in to get some coffee and go to the bathroom. He came out, and it was gone. Most of his clothes and his medical records had been in the stolen suitcase. He didn't share in a complaining manner, but rather with a disappointment that people would steal and yet with gratitude for the all the good in life.
"The man who put me up last night mentioned a truck stop in a place called Mocksville?"
"I think there is a Truck Stop America there. Mocksville is only about a ten-minute drive from here." I responded.
I pondered what I could do to help the man. I really didn't want to miss my writing workshop which started in less than two hours. But I was willing to miss it if needed. Ice was supposed to hit the Piedmont area on Thursday night; he needed to get west before it hit.
"I can take you to Oteen tonight, if you'd like. Or I can take you down to the truck stop, if you prefer."
"Well, if I get to Oteen late tonight, it wouldn't do any good. They can't see me until the day time hours."
"But it'd put you right there for in the morning."
He thought for a moment, "I think I'd rather try the truck stop. I feel sure I can get a ride from there to Oteen tomorrow." He seemed tired, like he just wanted to rest somewhere and get warm and start traveling again on Thursday.
We loaded his items in the back of my 1999 Ford Explorer and headed west on I-40 for the ten-minute drive to locate the truck stop.
****
On my way home from the dentist... (part one)
On my way home from the dentist... (part two)
On my way home from the dentist... (part three)
On my way home from the dentist... (part four)
****
On my way home from the dentist... (part one)
I sat in my 1999 gray Ford Explorer in the parking space at Kentucky Fried Chicken. I stared at the large windows of the small restaurant, at the signs advertising the current specials.
Why would I even eat here and support a place like KFC? The chickens are probably treated poorly; why would I even eat here? Plus I'm not really that hungry. But I'd like a piece of crispy chicken; it's been awhile since I've eaten crispy chicken. I could get some slaw and a piece of corn on the cob with the chicken. If I can't eat it all, I can take the left overs home. But if I go home instead of eating out I can save some money. I'll be spending money Friday at a restaurant when my sister comes through town.
It was 5:00 PM. Cars in their commute home at the end of the American work day whizzed in a steady stream along the busy five-lane road behind me. I sat in my Explorer contemplating whether or not to enter the KFC. As I sat, awaiting my decision, I perused information on my iPhone...Facebook, blog stats, email. Nothing of importance. I reread a blog piece entitled Ramblings of an apathetic mind that I had written earlier in the day.
I ordered a two piece meal - a crispy chicken breast and a grilled wing with corn on the cob and slaw. I got water to drink.
"Is that for here or to go?" the young counter waitress asked with a smile.
"I'd like it to go. But could I also get a plate? I'll eat some here and take some home."
She arranged my food on the disposable plate which sat on the brown tray. She gave me a box for any leftovers and handed me an empty cup for water.
I chose a small two-seater table in the middle of the restaurant; I was the only customer. I sat in the chair facing the large windows. I could see the parking lot and my Explorer and the busy five-lane road with whizzing cars. Country music played through the restaurant speakers.
I chose to eat my crispy chicken breast first. I stared out the window as the country twang entered my ears.
I wonder if he is homeless? Maybe; maybe not. He may have chosen walking as his mode of travel.
I thought about the financial deposits I'd made in my and Hubby's bank accounts earlier that day. Our middle class savings are meager compared to the wealthy and a fortune compared to the poor.
I didn't pay much attention when the traveler came in the side door to my left. He chose a booth over my left shoulder a couple aisles away in the corner next to the solid brick wall.
I continued eating my crispy coated chicken breast. I hadn't yet touched the corn or slaw or grilled wing. I looked at the three untouched items thinking about how much I like corn on the cob. I'd take the untouched food home...unless this man was homeless, in which case I'd give the food to him.
I glanced over at the corner booth. The man had taken off his coat and was looking for something in his tote bag. I wondered if he would retrieve a wallet. He kept his warm hat on. He still looked so chilled.
I finished eating my chicken breast and carefully packed the three untouched food items in the to-go box; the slaw in its separate to-go container, the corn on the cob wrapped in aluminum foil, and the grilled chicken breast which I placed in the kitchen parchment paper in the box. I included a black plastic spork with some napkins. With the box in hand, I walked over to the booth.
****
On my way home from the dentist... (part one)
On my way home from the dentist... (part two)
On my way home from the dentist... (part three)
On my way home from the dentist... (part four)
****