Hug Corp

It has been a long time ago now but I still wish it was still going on.  It all started with David, a young man from Maine who came to our church to be a youth director.  He was a good one, too.  He was a down to earth sort of guy who was full of energy, smiled all the time, was witty, and loved to hug people.  He was convinced that we are all supposed to be that way.  He said that the bible told us to love one another and he aimed to see that we all did just that.  So he formed what he called the Hug Corp.  It wasn’t accepted readily at first but as time went by it got to be that most everyone in our church was in favor.  Including me!

          I had been raised in a family who were very loving and as I grew up I learned to be as loving as I could be to each one in our family as well as everyone else who might be around.  So it was natural for me to join the Corp.  Yes, I was willing to hug people if they wanted me to.  Why not?  That was always what those in my family did anyway.  So I went to the training school.

          The training school was mostly common sense.  We were told never to reach out and grab somebody.  They might not want you to hug them.  We were never to hug children unless Mom or Dad was there and we were sure the child knew us and wanted to be hugged.  Old people were to be hugged with care so as not to break anything.  Young people were mainly to be avoided because of the risk that they would misread what a hug was all about.  Only the young ones we knew very well and knew that they were at ease around any of us were eligible.

          Phil made us really big buttons that we snapped on our shirts that said 'Hug Corp' on them.  So there was no doubt what we were willing to do. We wore the buttons and simply stood there waiting for anyone who felt like they needed a hug.  And it worked.  People began to feel better about themselves and others.  We were all closer to each other.  It was a better world.

          My story today is a simple one that I love to tell.  One of our preachers had a daughter who was high school age.  Stacey lived around the corner and stayed with Linda and me a lot after school.  Her mother worked and usually got home about an hour after Stacey got home. So she would come to our house and watch television until time to go home.  She told us that we were her segregate parents.  She felt free to raid the refrigerator for a drink or make herself a sandwich any time.  When she would leave she would always give each of us a hug. She really was like a daughter.

          One Sunday I was standing where I was assigned to stand while I proudly wore my button.  Stacey came running up to me and gave me a big hug.  We laughed together and she then ran off to be with her friends.  I’ll bet you have had the next kind of experience that I felt.  I all of a sudden was aware that someone was standing behind me saying nothing.  I turned to see an elderly lady wearing a frown on her face. She looked as though she wanted to slap me or something. She grunted a bit and then said with a snarl, “I know your kind!”

          I was startled and did not know what to say.  So I asked, “What kind am I?”

          “You only hug the young pretty ones.”

          They hadn’t taught me what to do in a situation like this so I knew I was on my own.  I knew I was not supposed to reach out for someone but I did and I said, “You are right!”  And I hugged her.  For a long time.  She wiggled for a while until finally she relaxed.  She stepped back from me and giggled.  Then she darted off. 

          I thought my days with the Hug Corp were over but it didn’t work out that way. It happened that after that day each Sunday I would all of a sudden feel that she was behind me again.  I would turn around there she would be with her arms stretched out waiting for her hug.  And each time she hugged back with vigor. 

          After about a year the lady died.  Linda and I went to her funeral service.  And even though we were told that she had two grown children neither was there.  And there were only three other people from our church as well.  What a sad time it was.  After the service the Minister came to me and said, “She loved you, Bill.  She told me just before she died how much your hugs had meant to her. She said that nobody else ever even touched her.”

          I hate to think about that.  But at least I could be thankful for that one fine opportunity God gave me to be kind to someone, and how thankful I still am for the days of the Hug Corp.

Buford

            “God told me to do this.”

            “God asked me to talk to you.”

            But I never believed anyone who said these sorts of things mainly because I never heard God talk to me.  I have always viewed myself as a Christian and I pray every day but I never heard God say anything to me.  I always said that I would listen if He did.   

            My wife, Linda, has tried to tell me that God does not always speak in a regular form but perhaps as a feeling or dream or a simple notion or some other way that we will not exactly understand.  I have always just accepted that explanation. 

Until That day.

I was at a place that sold tomatoes.  There was a long wall just outside and each time I was there the same man was there, sitting on a homemade chair beside a ‘borrowed’ food cart that seemed to contain all of his possessions.  He never looked at me or uttered a sound.  He just sat there.  Nobody seemed to know his name but we decided to call him Buford.  The poor guy did not seem to have a life at all.  And he looked hungry.

I normally didn’t pay any attention to Buford, but today for some reason was different.  I had a thought.  I do not know where it came from.  My mind seemed to say over and over again, “Feed this man and tell him God loves him.” So I immediately put that out of my mind.  But as I walked home it came coming back over and over.  Was I going crazy?  Probably.  I never had those kinds of thoughts before.  I tried to think of other things but the same thought kept coming back.  And by the time I got home I was obsessed with the idea and could not stop it.   

I went into my house and went straight to the refrigerator, took out a ham Linda had just cooked and began to make a sandwich.  One small sandwich ought to do it I thought.  But I kept making the sandwich bigger.  And then I made a second sandwich.   I was about to put them in a bag when I decided to maybe add some cheese and lettuce.  And perhaps some mayonnaise and a few pickles.

And then Linda came in and asked me what I was doing.  I told her that I didn’t know why but I had to feed Buford and tell him that God loved him.  I truly expected Linda to call the medics but she stopped what she was doing and went to the pantry, coming out with a huge sack.  She then filled it with an apple, two bananas, a bunch of cookies and a large bag of potato chips.  I put my two sandwiches in on top and we both started out to see about Buford.

I have been nervous a lot of times but never like this.  I didn’t know what I was doing or why.  I just wanted the thought to stop.  We drove to Buford’s regular spot.  Linda told me that it was now up to me.  Ain’t she cute, now?  I started three times to get out of the car before I finally just took a deep breath and stomped on out.  I walked up to Buford holding that bag and tried to smile.  It was difficult because Buford wasn’t smiling at all.  He just looked at me and said, “What do you want?”

I was shaking the bag but I managed to hand it to him.  I can’t believe I told him, “God asked me to bring you this and He wants you to know that He loves you.”

That was all I said. And I left.  Buford still did not utter a sound. He just looked at me as if to say I was some of nut.  And at the time I totally would have agreed with him. 

As we went back home it all of a sudden occurred to me that the thought that had been bugging me all day was gone.  I really did do what God told me to do.  And if you think I am crazy that is all right with me.  But I have never felt as good about something as I am about this experience. 

So I have told the story.  I have written about it.  And now the secret is out.  It is a true story and you can take it for whatever you think it is worth.  I am not trying to change anybody.  But for some reason it is now easier for me to love just about everybody.  And I am thankful!  Thank you for reading.

CHAD

Chad was about in his early twenties when he realized that he was never going to amount to much.  Both parents had left him. His Mother died when he was just a baby and his Dad abandoned him shortly after that.  He lived from foster home to foster home until his eighteenth birthday at which time he was told to get out and make it on his own.  The only thing he had ever really learned was that nobody cared about him and never would.  Chad wasn’t dumb but good luck didn’t seem to like him much. He did graduate from high school where his education ended.  So he went to work at a large grocery outfit where he separated vegetables getting them ready for delivery.  Lots of work but not much pay.  He made just enough to pay for a small apartment that had a bed, a table, a chair and a window where he could look out and dream about perhaps better days ahead.  Each day was about the same: work, go home, dream, sleep and go back to work. 

                Chad somehow found ways to make himself smile.  He enjoyed reading and the library books were free.  He enjoyed watching baseball so he spent many hours in the summer watching little league games.  Because they were free.  Girls were out of the question because he was always afraid to ask any of them out.  They were not free.  So he read books about baseball and dreamed that someday he would be able to see a major league game.  But when he found out how much such a ticket would cost he decided that he had found another dream that never would come true.

                Then he got the thought!  He would find a second job and save enough money to buy a ticket.  And he did.  He got a job cleaning floors at the local food distribution center where his company normally sent foodstuff.  He intended to work there only as long as it took to buy that ticket and hopefully would have enough left over to buy a hotdog and a coke.  It took him four and a half weeks but for the first time in his life he was seeing one of his dreams come true.

                The day came.  He had to walk to the stadium which took him over three hours but he knew it would be worth it.  He got up early in the morning so he would not be late for the game.  Happy, happy, happy!  When he got there he decided to pause just outside of the stadium and enjoy watching the others march in.  Everyone was going to enjoy the game.  While he was sitting he noticed a lot of different happenings.  Some people were telling their kids to stop this or that or they were going back home.  None of them did, however.  Chad started to go on in when he observed a small boy around nine or so trying to sneak in but was caught and send on out.  The boy came over near Chad and sat down on a rock and just looked sad.  Chad asked him what was bothering him although he already knew.  The boy had tears in his eyes when he explained to Chad that he was alone in the world and nobody cared anyway.  He told Chad that he wouldn’t understand that but Chad was well aware exactly what this boy was going through.  After all, he had been there.

                “Can’t your Dad buy you a ticket?” Chad wanted to know.

                “Ain’t got no Dad. I live in a foster home and they hate me I think.”

                Chad could not leave the boy now.  And as much as he wanted to see the game he was not going to let the boy go home thinking that nobody cared about him.  He took the boy by the hand and led him to the entrance gate where he handed the ticket collector his ticket and sent the boy in.  The boy ran without looking back.

                “You just wasted your money on a no good young sneak”, the ticket collector snarled.

                Chad went home happy!

                Years went by and Chad did do somewhat better.  He got a better job and even met a girl who seemed to see him for who he was rather than what he thought he should be. He never asked her out because he didn’t feel worthy.  She asked him.  And it wasn’t too long before Chad realized that he wanted to live the rest of his life with her.  That could never be, he thought.  Even though he made better money than he once did he still didn’t make enough to support such a fine girl as Sarah.  But Sarah didn’t see it that way.  She had a small job, too so of course that should be enough.  So she asked him to marry her.  Chad thought that was sort of strange but there was no way he could think of to say no.  So he said yes.  And the wedding was planned.  They would get married as cheaply as possible and then live happily ever after.  That worried Chad almost out of his mind.  After all no one had ever cared even a little bit about him and now he was marrying a princess.  So he did what any sweet thinking man would do.  He fainted.

                Sarah knew that his passing out was not good so she called a doctor.  And after a series of tests they were told that he had a disease that neither of them could pronounce.  The doctor told them that he would need an operation that only a few surgeons were able to do and that it was unlikely that he would be able to find one that would work on a patient who couldn’t even afford insurance.  And Chad certainly didn’t have any of that anyway. 

                Sarah called every doctor who was listed for that type of operation to no avail.  And she then wrote each one a letter trying to get one to help.  She told them how Chad had grown up thinking no one cared and rested on the hope that one of them might. She was about to give up when she got a response from a Dr. Arthur Wellington who said only that he agreed to do the operation but little more.

                The operation was a success and after some two months of rehab he was discharged from the hospital fully cured. But now the hard part:  Chad could not sleep because of worry about the bills.  There would be not only the doctor’s bill but the ones from the hospital.  Chad was looking forward to a lifetime of debt and he knew it.  So he would just tell Sarah that she should find a more suitable partner for a husband.

                “We are already married, you nut, let’s go home.”  They started down the steps to leave the hospital.  They would just tell the woman at the desk that they would pay them what they could each month for the rest of their lives. When they got to the checkout desk the nurse there handed Chad a letter.  “They are afraid to tell what the bill is so they have put it in an envelope so I can read it when we get home.  That way if I pass out again they will have no responsibility about it.”

                Sarah couldn’t wait.  She opened the envelope.  It was not a bill but a letter.  Sarah read it to herself first and then started crying as she passed it on to Chad.

                The letter:

Dear Chad,

                I hope it is all right to address you by your first name.  You see I have never known your last name.  You perhaps will not remember me.  But maybe you will recall our meeting some years back.   I was an orphan boy who had lost all faith in manhood.  I was certain that no one on this earth really cared.  But God led me to a baseball game that I had no ticket for and no way of ever seeing the game.  I tried to sneak in but was caught and ushered out.  That is when I met you.  You showed me more love than I had ever received before.  You gave me your ticket.  I think of that act of kindness almost every day and have wondered for years if I would ever get an opportunity to thank you for that kind deed.

                When I got the letter from Sarah she told that story simply trying to explain to whoever was reading that you were worth doing something for.   She also told that you had worked a second job for more than four weeks to earn the money for that ticket.  And you gave it to me.

                I don’t remember much about the game.  What I do remember is that there was someone who showed that there are people who do in fact care and you were willing to sacrifice to the point that I could have a returned faith in my fellow man.

                I am truly indebted to you.  You have done far more for me than I could ever do for you.  Although I want to do more I have paid your hospital bills and please accept my services at no cost to you.  Your kindness actually gave me a new life.  Thank you!

Sincerely,

Your friend,

Dr. Arthur Wellington

               

                 

My Sight is Back

            This blog is not intended to be about me.  However there is something on my mind that I feel as though I should shout from the housetop. And here it is:

            About ten years ago I had a surgery on my right eye for a cataract removal.  Even though they told me that only about one in several thousand ever go bad I won the lottery.  Mine went bad.  Shortly after the operation my retina began to detach.  That happened eight times and ended with a final surgery that left my retina in perfect shape.   Only all of the blood stopped going to that eye because of the many surgeries and I was left blind in that eye. After fighting my computer for a while I became aware that I was no longer able to do the computer assisted design by CAD and was forced to retire.  I immediately failed retirement.  I did not want to retire.  I wanted to work.  I loved the work I was doing.  And anyway I could no longer drive a car as well so what was I going to do? So for the years since then I watched my sight go away bit by bit. 

            Please don’t quit reading yet!  This all has a happy ending. 

            The doctor who did the final surgery had me coming back once a year to see if there were any new procedures that could return the sight in that eye.  And each year a cataract in my left eye was beginning to grow.   Now reading was becoming harder and harder to the point that I no longer even wanted to try to read.  I tried to hide the fact that seeing was difficult for me but it was reaching the point that I could no longer keep it secret.  So I did what all good husbands do.  I asked my wife what I should do.  In her kind way she softly explained to me that I was the only one who could make the decision as to whether or not to have the cataract in my good eye removed.  She has just recently had both of her eyes done without any problem.  She talked to the doctor about me and he said that he could not see any problem with my having it done. So I went to him for advice.   He looked at everything and convinced me that he would be able to at least save the left eye.

            So the operation was done.  Having had so many other such operations I expected to spend the next few weeks recuperating.  But not so!  The day after I awoke and went to my bedroom window and looked out.  And there to my surprise were colors.  It had been years since I had seen colors.  I looked around the room and everything I looked at was clear.  Did I have new glasses?  No!  Had I died? No!  I ran into the kitchen where Linda was and there she stood, the same beautiful woman I married fifty four years ago, cooking something as always.  She was smiling and looking at me.  I could see her eyes.  They were glowing. 

            So am I thankful?  You have to be kidding!  Of course I am thankful.  I am thankful for the doctor who used that fine mind God gave him to learn how to fix eyes.  I am thankful for all the many people- family and friends- who cared enough to pray for me.  But most of all I want the world to know that I am thankful to God who loved me enough to give me back my sight.  I can write every day for the rest of my life and will never have the words to completely say what that has meant to me. 

            If what I have written sounds too good to be true then it is all right for you to think that if you want, but all I can say is that all of my life I have been a liar but this time I am telling the truth.  I am happy!  And I love you and there ain’t nothin’ you can do about it.  So hug somebody. And stay off the road.  They let me drive again.