I usually only post the serious stuff, and have never posted off topic before. However, this one got to me and here it is.
Ron


THE CAB RIDE

Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living.

When I arrived at 2:30 a.m., the building was dark except for a
single light in a ground floor window Under these circumstances, many
drivers would just honk once or twice, wait a minute, then drive away.

But, I had seen too many impoverished people who depended on taxis as
their only means of transportation. Unless a situation smelled of
danger, I always went to the door. This passenger might be someone
who needs my assistance, I reasoned to myself

So I walked to the door and knocked. "Just a minute", answered a
frail, elderly voice.

I could hear something being dragged across the floor.

After a long pause, the door opened.. A small woman in her 80's stood
before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a
veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940s movie.

By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no
one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with
sheets.

There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the
counters.

In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware.

"Would you carry my bag out to the car?" she said. I took the
suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman.

She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb

She kept thanking me for my kindness.

"It's nothing", I told her. "I just try to treat my passengers the
way I would want my mother treated".

"Oh, you're such a good boy", she said.

When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, then asked, "Could
you drive through downtown?"

"It's not the shortest way," I answered quickly.

"Oh, I don't mind," she said. "I'm in no hurry. I'm on my way to a hospice".

I looked in the rear-view mirror. Her eyes were glistening.

"I don't have any family left," she continued. "The doctor says I
don't have very long."

I quietly reached over and shut off the meter. "What route would you
like me to take?" I asked.

For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the
building where she had once worked as an elevator operator.

We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived
when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture
warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as
a girl.

Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of a particular building or
corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing.

As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said,
"I'm tired Let's go now."

We drove in silence to the address she had given me.

It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a
driveway that passed under a portico.

Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up.

They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must
have been expecting her.

I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door..

The woman was already seated in a wheelchair.

"How much do I owe you?" she asked, reaching into her purse.

"Nothing," I said.

"You have to make a living," she answered.

"There are other passengers," I responded.

Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug.. She held onto me
tightly.

"You gave an old woman a little moment of joy," she said.

"Thank you"

I squeezed her hand, then walked into the dim morning light.

Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life.

I didn't pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly
lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk.

What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was
impatient to end his shift?

What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away?

On a quick review, I don't think that I have done anything more
important in my life.

We're conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments.

But great moments often catch us unaware-beautifully wrapped in what
others may consider a small one.

PEOPLE MAY NOT REMEMBER EXACTLY WHAT 'YOU DID, OR WHAT YOU SAID, BUT
THEY WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER HOW YOU MADE THEM FEEL! .

You won't get any big surprise in 10 days if you send this to ten people.

But, you might help make the world a little kinder and more
compassionate by sending it on.

Thank you, my friend.....

Life may not be the party we hoped for, but while we are here we
might as well dance. Every morning when I open my eyes, I tell
myself that it is special. Every day, every minute, every breath
truly is a gift from God

beneath that stoic exterior beats a very good heart. awfully glad to know you.

It made me think of my own mom who is frail and who has lately been recalling many memories. Thanks for the story.

michael b.

Excellent post Ron!

To quote George Carlin.."Life is not measured by the amount of breaths you take..But by the moments that take your breath away"

Thank you. Thank you so much.
Simply beautiful.
x

Ron,

I have been reading your posts for over three years now and I know that you are both extremely intelligent as well as compassionate. That's sometimes a rare combination!

Ironically, when reading the story, I knew that I had read it before, but PD or no PD, I didn't remember the ending! The irony ... at the bottom of all of my posts, you will notice that I have written exactly, word for word, the "ending and/or point behind the story" ... PEOPLE MAY NOT REMEMBER EXACTLY WHAT YOU DID, OR WHAT YOU SAID, BUT THEY WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER HOW YOU MADE THEM FEEL! I feel very strongly about this and I try to brighten up nearly every person's day that I come in contact with ... 24/7. Some simple words like ... "You look so pretty in the color green" boosts a person's morale immediately. You never know how long it's been since that person received a compliment.

Do you want to know what is my latest "morale booster?" At stores I look at the clerk and say ... "I hope everyone treats you nice today." Most are taken back. They expect the routine ... ""Have a good day!"

But compliments are so, so very easy to give, yet so many of us focus on the negative.

Just in the past month, I have written a note to our (new) youth pastor who has been plugging along, trying his best to win the kids over, but the high school and college kids have had a tough time letting someone new into their hearts. In that same letter, I acknowledged that his wife deserved praise as well because I'm sure that it wasn't easy for her to watch what was taking place.

I wrote a letter to an employee of the pool service that we use. He always phones back promptly, listens to me say "this gizmo and that gadget" and is truly pleasant to deal with. A few days after I sent the letter, he called me personally and said ... "I can't thank you enough for what you did. That letter made it all the way to the president!"

When I substitute teach, invariably I am warned about the "class from hell" and how difficult it is to keep the kids under control. Do you know how I combat that? By saying ... "If you work with me, I promise to personally write a note to your teacher saying what a good class you were." These students, too, are floored that someone cares enough to do something so simple.

So, thank you, Mr. Ron Hutton, for reminding each and every one of us that PD or no PD, we can still make a huge (and I mean huge!) difference in the life of others.

And ... before I sign off for the night ... I wanted to share a quick tip that my brother taught me.

He routinely goes to lunch with my uncle. This uncle has never married and has no children. Instead, he spent the majority of his 70 years of life taking care of his mother (my grandmother) who passed away about five years ago.

My brother said that he's learned to always set the lunch date for about a week to ten days away. In his experience, the "excitement of waiting" ... and the "anticipation of having something to look forward to" ... is just as important as the event itself. I would have never thought about that, but I obviously have a caring brother as well!

Good night everyone ...

Thanks to each of you for your comments. I am convinced PD has made us better people, it certainly has in my case. Although I was a caring family man before diagnosis, I was ruthless in my climb to get to the top in my career. Now, I consider the feelings of all I come into contact with, and particularly try to ease the anxiety of the newly diagnosed.
Proudest-Mama, you are a very caring and deep thinking person. You see, compliments are so easy to give.!!! LOL But I mean it, you must make a lot of people happier.
Ron