Scratched, Not Broken

By Jerry Mack Grubbs

He was clutching the chain-link fence trying to maintain his balance as he shuffled along the icy sidewalk. As I came to a stop and rolled down my car window I asked, “Would you like a ride?” He didn’t respond. It appeared he was sorting through my words trying to decide what his answer should be. Because he appeared to be in trouble I stepped out of the car and walked over to see if I could help him in some way. I assumed he was coming from the grocery store just down the block because he was carrying a plastic sack containing a loaf of bread and two fruit drinks. “Hold on to me and I will help you into the car and I will take you home,” I said.

“I can’t, I can’t go, I can’t go home yet. I have, I have to, I have to go to work,” he stammered. He wasn’t stuttering. It appeared that his mental thought processes were getting stuck then starting over before he finished his thought. It reminded me of a CD that had been scratched and jumped back a track. The way this guy was hobbling and struggling just to walk made me curious as to what type of work he did. “Where do you work?” I asked. “I work, I work at, I work at Cesar’s Pizza,” he said.

My mind immediately began to dance through the possible jobs that this man might do for a pizza shop. He must work in the kitchen washing dishes, or making dough for the pizzas. Maybe he just mops floors. “What do you do for Cesar’s Pizza?” I asked. “I am, I am the, I am the sign man,” he said. “Oh, you stand out on the sidewalk and wear a sign encouraging people to come into Cesar’s Pizza?” I asked. “I wear, I wear a, I wear a pizza costume.”

As my rider pointed out the direction to Cesar’s Pizza he told me that his name was James. He rides the city bus to Smith’s Food Market were he waits for two hours before walking the six blocks to Cesar’s Pizza. He waits inside the grocery store to stay warm until he reports to work at 11:00 to begin wearing his pizza sign. James holds his grocery bag under the pizza costume and eats from the loaf of bread and drinks his juice. “Is that what you eat every day?” I asked. He answered yes. “Do you work every day?” I asked. He said that he worked every day except Sunday. “But I, but I am, but I am lucky to have a job,” he explained.

As we pulled into the Cesar’s Pizza parking lot James started to open the door to get out. I asked him if he had a few more minutes that we could talk. From what I had already learned from our conversation I knew that he would have to stand outside the pizza shop in the cold until just before 11:00. What good would I have accomplished if I transported him to work so he could get there early and then have to stand out in the cold until time to go in and put on his pizza suit? We sat in the warmth of the car for the next few minutes and talked about his life.

James’s speech reminded me of my favorite CD that is scratched and jumps tracks until I nudge it along beyond the damaged portion. I continue to listen to it because I love the music. Because it was difficult for James to express himself I will paraphrase what he had to say next. “I fell on the ice and hurt myself getting off the bus today. That is why I am having so much trouble walking. Three people got off the bus after me and no one stopped to help. I think it was because no one wanted to touch me. I was embarrassed as I struggled to my feet and the bus finally pulled away. My hip and elbow hurt and I felt sorry for myself. My mother taught me that when you feel sorry for yourself you become miserable for other people to be around. I heard her words in my mind but I still wondered if anyone in the world cared about me.”

I didn’t try to solve James’s problems. A twenty dollar bill pushed into his hand wouldn’t change his life. But he changed my life. After saying goodbye to James I drove away feeling more thankful for my own life and for the opportunities I have been blessed with. I reflected upon the special care I have received throughout my life. I never remember once feeling as though no one in the world cared about me. I only wish that James, along with everyone else, could have been helped as much as I have been throughout my life.

Later in the day, as I drove over to my brother’s office to wish him a happy birthday, I passed Cesar’s Pizza and there stood James in his pizza costume waving at the passing cars. Well, I assume it was James. I couldn’t see his face but I did recognize the yellow sleeves of his oversized frayed coat protruding from the pepperoni pizza costume. He may have already forgotten me but I hadn’t forgotten him. I smiled as I passed but I wasn’t just smiling at James. I was thinking about how fortunate I am. I had spent the day in a warm office while James limped along an icy sidewalk in front of Cesar’s Pizza thankful to have a job. James had helped me remember that a grateful attitude encourages a cheerful countenance. And a cheerful countenance . . . well, I think you get the idea. James may be scratched but he isn’t broken. I’ll bet I see him standing out in front of Cesar’s Pizza tomorrow regardless of whether it is blowing snow or bright sunshine.

Thank you, James.