Tuesday, April 30, 2013

The One Legged Man (by Nancy Allen)


The One Legged Man
Our family was on our way to the lake for an afternoon of fishing when we noticed a man hobbling down the road.
        “Look, mama! That man’s walking with a crutch,” said Cliff
        As we drew closer, Chris said, “he’s only got one leg!”                                   
        I turned to my husband, “Joe, we ought to help him,” The man seemed to be struggling, but with determination and courage he plodded along. Our hearts melted.
       “He probably doesn’t live far,” said Joe, “we can take him home and still go fishing.” The boys sat in the back seat of the old brown Rambler station wagon with downcast faces.
        Joe pulled the car up beside the one legged man, stuck his head out the window and asked, “Would you like a ride?”
      “Yes, thank you,” said the man. Joe jumped out of the car and helped the man into the back seat beside the boys. There was a slight unfamiliar odor. His hands were rough, but his face was kind. Joe bounced back into the driver’s seat and turned facing the man.
        “Where to sir?” Well, my mouth flew open and you should have seen the look on Joe’s face— the man said, “Johnson City.” Johnson City was 150 miles away!
            The man introduced himself as Sam and described himself as a railroad bum who had lost his leg several years back while trying to catch a train. He was accustomed to living outside.
            I wondered why he had chosen to live always on the move, always outside and always alone. I imagined his wife had left him, or a child had died or perhaps he had done something in his earlier days that made him want to escape.                                                          We learned that Sam had walked about 300 miles from Memphis, Tennessee. He apologized for his dirty clothes and talked about how he had been attacked by dogs that didn’t understand his crutch. He left Memphis with $3.27 which was used for bus fare and had hitched or walked the remainder of the way, resting and sleeping on the roadside. Sam had not eaten in two days, but he didn’t complain. He was determined to get to Johnson City because once he had been a soldier and the Veterans Hospital there had promised to fit him with a prosthesis.
            After hearing Sam’s story, Joe was determined not to put him out to walk again.
             “We want to help you,” I said.                                                                                                                    “You have obligations to your children,” said Sam, “maybe you can help me with bus fare?”
                      “I only have $8.00,” said Joe, “we don’t have a bus station, but there is one in Crossville.” Crossville was 30 miles away, but seeing as how 150 miles was the other option, it appeared to be the better choice. When we arrived in Crossville, Tennessee it was about 3:00 p.m. The bus station was closed on Sunday afternoon, but there was a sign on the door:
                                    Bus Schedule

                                    Crossville to Johnson City

                                    with layover in Knoxville
                                    departure 4:00 p.m.
                                    Pay the bus driver.
                Joe drove over to a restaurant and spent $3.00 of his $8.00 on a hamburger for Sam. He gave Sam the remaining $5.00 for bus fare. At 4:00 p.m. Sam boarded the bus and we headed home. But on the way I began to wonder if $5.00 would be enough to get Sam to Johnson City. What if they put him off the bus?
         “We’d better do something to make sure he gets there,” I said.                 
         “What do you want me to do?” asked Joe, “I think we’ve already gone the second mile.”
        “Call the bus line.”
        “Do what?” said Joe, “you call them.”                                                           
        “Yes, we just gave a one legged man $5.00 and put him on a bus headed toward Johnson City. I'm afraid he doesn’t have enough money to get him there.”             
         “What do you want me to do? I can’t help you,” said the clerk.                                                     “Do you have a supervisor?” I asked.                                                                                    After listening to my story the supervisor hesitated.
            “I’m desperate, please do something,” I said. “He doesn’t deserve to be put off the bus.
            The supervisor said, “We’ll make sure he gets there!”
            Needless to say, Cliff and Chris didn’t get to go fishing that day and to this day we still wonder about the fate of the one legged man.                                            

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