A GARBAGE MAN'S GIFT

The smile on his handsome, cleanly shaved young face would have made a smiling Tom Cruise look dour. The young man in his early twenties, almost young enough to be my son, was wearing military gear and a mile wide grin.

His olive tee shirt was neatly tucked into army fatigues. Both items looked fresh and wrinkle free.  A sailor cap sat at a rakish angle and its stark white matched his spotless white sneakers.  The mixed service attire made me unsure if he were a veteran or just an Army Surplus shopper. He was not a new sight. He was one of our town's homeless.

I had seen him before in the city park across from my office as he picked up aluminum cans left there from a previous night of teenage fun. The smile was always present as was his fresh pressed appearance. He seemed to be over flowing with boundless energy and good will. My whole office noticed him each morning and envied, not his station in life, but how he was handling it.

Once my elderly little VW bug stalled right in the middle of the street close to the office. He spotted my problem and ran across the park to help me push it to the side of the road. He jiggled a wire or two, thumped the carburetor, smacked the starter and got me running again. I offered him money but he refused and just wished for me to have a great day. With a smile and a wave, he left. 

Then he was gone. I kind of missed his cheerful morning sprints through the park and thought he had moved on till one day we met again while I was working. This was during my meter reading days and I was working an affluent neighbor hood. 

I really did not like this route.  It was clean with no dogs but the yards were huge and the lawns were thick cut and spongy. The soft grass really worked our calves and was as much fun as loose sand to walk on. Progress was labored and slow.

It seemed the rich found electric meters offensive so they did their best to hide them behind large prickly shrubs or fenced off behind high, solid board fencing.

Their electric service was underground so there was no tell tale power line drop to let us know where the meters were. If it were your first time on the route, often you had to circle the large houses more than once looking for the well hidden meters. It was my first time and I hoped, the last. 

It was quite early in the route and I was feeling a bit grumpy about my day when I heard the garbage truck rumbling behind me. That same young man was hanging on the back of the truck and periodically jumped off to fetch and empty the garbage cans. I was pleased to see he was OK. 

The well-to-do seemed equally eager to hide the fact they stooped to having garbage as they were about using electricity. The garbage cans were hidden in fenced areas, sometimes in the same place as our meters, and often quite a way from the road side.

At most of the homes, the man had to walk up long drives, carry the full cans to the truck, empty them and return them to the hiding places. It seems only a few cans had wheels as the owners never had to move them. I am assuming these folks paid more for this special service. I know in less affluent areas that if the cans weren't roadside, they remained full. 

The young man did not walk however but bound off the truck and jogged cheerfully up and down the driveways with his ever present smile and flashing white sneakers.  I could not help but smile back as we passed on one of the driveways.

We stopped to talk for a second as he remembered my car troubles.  Now as some of you know, I am generally a glass half full person and am often annoyingly cheerful or can at least laugh about my circumstances.  But I do have my downer days and this was one of them.

I was about to make a snarky comment about how difficult these people were making our jobs when he said, "Isn't this just the best day ever?  The sky is a brilliant blue, the air crisp (rare in Florida) and look how the sun makes the dew sparkle on the grass."  So I looked. 

That same dew I had just been mentally moaning about making my feet wet suddenly took on a new light. I was now walking on jewelry instead of slopping through thick, wet grass. Slowly, my grumpy attitude changed, reaching up to join his happier one. I couldn't help it. His joy in life was infectious. 

We chatted a bit and discovered we were following the same basic route that day. Then he said with a grin as he dared me, "Bet I can beat you back to the entrance."

"You're on."  I said and suddenly the day became one of challenge and play, not work. 

We raced-- him down the long drives and me thorough spongy lawns.  We grinned as we passed each other and were watchful of the others progress. Oddly I felt full of energy and delight. The long difficult route became a fun, competitive one as I jogged from house to house.

Sometimes I was ahead and but most often he was which gave me incentive to pick up my pace. Luckily I didn't have to carry two garbage cans at a time for each trip or he would have destroyed me. Age and gender do count.   Around noon he beat me to the last house but not by much. 

I had finished that part of my route way ahead of schedule and surprisingly, with all that running, I wasn't tired at all but invigorated. 

We congratulated each other on a race well run and I thanked him for making my day so much fun. We both said we would love to do it again but that was the last I saw of him.  

I have no idea what happened to that young man but I hope--no I know--with that attitude, he continued through life surrounded by joy and peace. He was as successful in his way as Bill Gates could ever be.  Pretty sure he left behind a trail of people like me with an increased appreciation for day to day chores.

Was that a big thing in relation to world peace or amazing inventions? For Patti's small world, yes it was, for it has lasted for almost 40 years. 

Should we all be like him?  I doubt it, for sadly there is also a definite need for the driven and intense. No, not all should be like that delightful young man but we could use a bunch more to give our attitudes a boost. Only the determined, dark side inhabitants could avoid being positively effected by him.  

I would have been smart to have remembered his attitude a few posts ago when I contemplated becoming a buzzard. I still am unable to apply his approach to the big stuff but it works wonderfully on the daily drudgeries and for remembering to not look, but to see.

Being aware of the positives of a job and not dwelling on the negatives was his gift. It even works for vacuuming---well most of the time.

Yesterday morning as Callie and I stepped  out onto the morning dew, I again thought of him. Live long and prosper my friend, it has been many years but I still remember you, am grateful, and wish you only the best.

Were you ever fortunate enough to meet such a person? Maybe it was even my guy that I somehow suspect traveled a lot. I'm thinking he was kind of the Johnny Appleseed of good cheer.  Perhaps it was someone like him who opened wide your dusty appreciation vaults?  I hope you were as lucky as I was.