You Never Know


There is an elderly man whose name is, Peter, and he lives down the street from me. Society pays him no mind. His home is nice enough and even better than many. He is quiet and keeps to himself.

His three car garage is overflowing with empty cans retrieved from the streets. The cans would be pouring out the windows if those windows opened. Instead the garage doors are pulled to the sides and the mountains of cans spill onto the gravel and grass. He has got a couple of older cars that probably haven’t seen a road in ten years…his laying hen uses them for a roost.

The pastor and his helpers – me George – and the other more integral one…the driver and the muscle of our trio, Richard, all possess the same beliefs of helping. We are non-judgemental. All we need to know is whether a person is in need, and when we find out, we deliver. Pastor prays with each one but there are no conditions. Recipients may attend whatever church they wish to; it does not stop our giving. We freely give to atheists for Jesus said something about, ye will know us (Christians) by our works. God is love.

The grass in Peter’s yard is always about a foot high and in need of mowing, It is never any longer nor any shorter. Many times I drive past his place going to my friend’s house and I think of the old guy…wonder if I should stop in to say hi? But I never do.

He is but one that we deliver food to on a monthly basis. And some at church did not want food delivered to this person because they’d heard that he is a wealthy man and in fact owns most of the county, Christians should know better than to gossip.

I did a little investigating on this person but not because of a need to know whether he could afford groceries or not, that is none of my business.

It turns out that Peter’s dad had many political connections and yes Peter was born into high society. His dad was a railroad tycoon from the early 1900’s https://upload.wikimedia.org/…/1024px-Missouri_Pacific_Numb… and was friends with James J. Hill a bigger tycoon than his father. But these men foraged for land together and sometimes at odds of one another yet despite their wealth they too, returned to dust.

Though most of Peter’s wealth was squandered he took a gamble when Vegas was new but Peter was muscled out by the organization. He tried once again with the casinos in Cuba at the time of the revolution, but lost out when Castro’s troops claimed everything for their own.

He now leads a quiet existence, but still has his yacht docked at a marina down at the Gulf Shores. I know not its condition. He owns properties, several houses, and according to county records they would fetch a pretty penny. Peter has chosen his own way of living. Right or wrong, that isn’t anybody’s call but his.

Peter, a quiet, miserly man is content with life and hearing about God on delivery day. Maybe one fine day he will be delivered.

Steve Richie

Hi folks, Two lives in one lifetime. The first me, lived to age thirty-four. That Steve was overly confident and oozing with pride. Then, on a record heat-setting day (107º) here in the Twin Cities area of Minnesota and western Wisconsin, a one car near-fatal wreck left me in a two-month long coma. I emerged much as I was before minus certain physical capabilities, but my mind seemed mostly in tact. The crash and its effects did not change me (I emerged a happy individual) but the deeds perpetrated against me in the ensuing months from my wife of sixteen years scared and humbled me as I was dragged down with nothing left by my wife who now had guardianship over all of our accounts. And neither would she allow me to see our kids. She took everything out of, "Our" names and changed them to her name only; then would not allow me to our home and divorced me. I was angry, but no more. I spent half of 1988 and more than half of 1989 in hospitals, nursing homes and a three month stint at a head-injury rehab center where I was being taught how to re-enter society as this different person, that I didn't know. I was not able to return to my previous line of work, a self-employed decorator, you know, painting and paperhanging. It was a physical job which required much dexterity, finesse, and a good grasp of numbers. I returned to the beginning, school, but on a community college level. One of the instructor's liked my writing and I began focusing my attention on that. I attended classes at, "The Loft," A Place for Writers in Minneapolis. While there, a classmate of mine was having her friend from New York, a CBS executive, to her home for the holidays and asked me if she could do a critique on a couple chapters of a book I was writing, "A Day I'll Never Remember" and I obliged. When she returned to class the following Monday she told me that the exec wanted a ten-page synopsis of the book for a possible movie; I was excited. After obliging for that also, I never saw or heard from her or the guy from CBS. Next thing I knew I was watching a movie called, "Regarding Henry" starring Harrison Ford and the scenes of therapy were exactly like what I went through and had written about. Regarding Henry - could've been my story except that, "Henry" got his head injury from a gunshot and his wife stayed with him throughout the ordeal. Coincidence I'm sure, though, the therapy scenes entailed what I described in the book so I always wondered..... My hope, my dream is to bolster our income for my daughter and for myself. I am and have been raising this beautiful, talented little girl who was diagnosed with autism at age two, since 2006 singlehandedly. I divorced her mother the same year following complaints that I spent too much time with our daughter. However, Stephanie began school with no need for special education. She has been reading since age four and understanding what she'd read. Stephanie maintains straight "A's" on her report card, has published two books (through school) and has been selected as an, "Honors" student for seventh grade English. My ex moved to New York to be closer to her sister and has been remarried now for a number of years. Well, that's only a snippet of my sixty-one years and I would like to thank you for reading, thank you.

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