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WHO CARES?

I sat there watching her as she read the local newspaper. I in a chair
and her on the antique couch in her living-room.

I was not sure why I was even there. Who were these people anyway? Why
would someone invite a total stranger into their home and give them food
and a place to sleep? It was true that I was just a kid. But still that
made no difference. They were still strangers to me. There had to be a
catch somewhere. There had to be something in it for them. No one is
kind to someone else for no reason at all.

I would glance at the television and then once in a while I would look
back at her face. I watched as she read and changed the expressions on
her face. All at once I noticed tears running down her cheeks.

"Are you ok?" I asked her.

She reached over and she picked up a tissue. She wiped her eyes and then
she looked directly at me.

"I was just reading an article. It said that four teenagers were killed
today in an automobile accident over on University Boulevard." She told
me.

"But why would you cry for them? You don't even know them." I told her.

"I cry for them because they lost their lives at such a young age." She
explained.

"I ain't never cried for nobody. 'Course I ain't never known nobody that
died before either." I told her.

She put the newspaper down. Then she sat up onto the edge of the couch
and she looked directly into my eyes.

"I was told by the juvenile authorities that you were rather a
hard-nosed boy. Is that true?" She asked me.

"I guess. I don't know." I responded.

"I don't think that it is true at all." She said. "I can tell that just
by looking into your face and your eyes. The truth of the matter is that
you do not know how to feel about certain things." She continued.

I just sat there not having the slightest idea of what to say back to
her. She just sat there staring at me. I looked down at the carpet and
then I turned my head and I began to watch the television.

"Let me get us a coca cola and let's go out on the front porch." She
said, as she got up from the couch.

I really didn't want to go out onto the front porch. I knew that I would
be asked a bunch of dumb questions. Questions that I could not answer. I
just wanted to be left alone until I was returned to the juvenile
shelter the next morning. Nevertheless, I got up and I walked out onto
the porch. I stood there waiting for her to return.

The next thing I knew it was almost four in the morning. She and I had
talked for almost five hours. I don't really remember what all was said.
I do remember her hugging me and my body going limp, my arms to my
sides. I did not know how to react to someone hugging me. I had never
felt such a strange thing before. I laid in my bed all night feeling
numb and confused. I think I tried to cry but I just couldn't.

My life continued to spiral out of control for many years after that. I
made my way to the reform school, jail and then on to prison at age
twenty-one. I walked out of prison on February 6th, 1969, at age
twenty-four. Never to get in trouble again. That's been thirty-five
years ago this last February.

Whatever I have accomplished in my life is due to that stranger putting
her arms around a very confused juvenile delinquent that night. A
stranger who took the time to make me feel that I had a worth. Someone
who made me feel that I was worth talking to. That I was worth my own
bottle of coca cola.

It is amazing how much money the county, and state probably spent on
unwanted children like me. That woman accomplished more in five hours
than did the state in fourteen years. All for the price of a bottle of
coca cola and a free hug.

Stories from The Life and Times of Roger Dean Kiser:

Click on Roger's name to visit his Website. Roger Dean Kiser

To write to Roger please click on his name. Roger Dean Kiser

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