‘Out for lunch’ – An act of compassion

Recently, a friend of mine told me a story. However, for humility’s sake, he made me promise that if I chose to write about it, I would have to withhold his identity. I am a man of my word, so henceforth, he will be known as Sam. The following is precisely Sam’s tale, which is a true story, merely in my words.

The other day Sam was strolling down one of Richmond’s battered sidewalks when he noticed a restaurant’s enticing advertisement. It was quite a good deal, and he was admiring it, contemplating whether to try their cuisine for the first time and also whether the business would actually honor such an offer.

As he was doing this, a friendly smile appeared before him, and a stranger greeted Sam with the charm of an old friend. The man must have seen Sam standing before the sign with his furrowed brows and decided to aid him in making up his mind. He spoke from a worn, weathered mouth, between missing teeth, “Oh, I know son, it is amazin’! But it’s true. And dey got a good club sandwich, too!”

Sam knew at once the poor man was homeless, his cheerful demeanor couldn’t fully cover up his painful life, and there was still a bit of sadness in his eyes. “You think so? Alright, sounds good, I think I’ll try it.” As Sam was about to say goodbye, he reached for the entrance door and heard the stranger from behind, almost from within. “You going in there? Think you have an extra buck?”

Sam heard the poor soul’s plea and hesitated for but a split second before replying, “Of course, come on.” As the man’s bearded face lit up with joy, Sam now opened the door and put out his hand ushering the man inside the warm building. The two entered and the man now quickly added, “The only thing is that they don’t let you take it to go.” With that the man sat down at a table near the large television displaying president Bush during a live speech. “That’s fine,” Sam said and he put his heavy bag of books on the floor, pulling a chair out for himself.

It was then when Sam realized what he was doing. It was something he never did before but thought about many times. He had said hello to countless street folk before, conversing with some for half an hour at a time, learning about their past, their concerns and their dreams. He had given some of them money, too. But he had never taken one to lunch before. He had thought it would be a nice thing, but he didn’t know how to offer without being insulting. Now the opportunity had arisen, and he had taken advantage of it.

His newfound companion was presently staring at the television, lost in its detailed pictures. Sam studied him now, knowing that the stranger avoided his eyes out of shame. Sam knew the man was embarrassed by his situation, saddened that he begged a student less than half his age for a tempting morsel of food.

Sam breathed the man in, his odor was strong and probably considered foul by most, but Sam recognized something familiar and thus comforting in it. It was human. Sam would smell no different if he had switched places with the man. Although the two had never met, Sam felt close, connected merely by the fact that man was just that, a fellow man, a brother in the web of humanity.

His thoughts were interrupted by the waitress’ inquiry into their selection from the menus, which were laid upon the table since their arrival, and at which neither had bothered to look. The stranger, still hiding his face in the television ordered a Coke and the club sandwich quickly and with an added “please.” Sam followed suit and the waitress took off.

It was apparent. The waitress knew and so did all the patrons. They didn’t stare but they glanced here and there. All their expressions read the same. “Is that what I think it is? Did that boy just bring that man in off the street?” They were indeed expressions of surprise but not of disapproval. To say they smiled would be incorrect for that would lead the reader to believe they were mocking the scene before them. Their lips curled just enough to display their happiness, and just enough to show their newfound inner peace.

“I’m Neil,” the man suddenly stammered out, and he held out his hand. Sam, glad to pull the man away from the television if for a moment, introduced himself and the two hands firmly clasped. The handshake, such a simple ritual we have developed, but such a beautiful sight it is.

The meal was like any other except Sam’s companion cleaned his plate in seconds, feverishly. Also, there was little conversation. The two exchanged a few words here and there, good friendly talk about each other’s life and of course about what opinions they had about the president’s speech, which was unfolding on the large screen a couple feet from their table. Neil had difficulty maintaining dialogue. Sometimes he spoke in funny, sporadic ways. The transitions between phrases were difficult for Sam to follow and he would get lost in the incoherence. It didn’t matter though, he was having a good time just listening and he would reply even if he didn’t understand.

Neil was already digesting as Sam was still chewing his second quarter of the club. He would have liked for Neil to stay but he did not insist when Neil got up to go. Neil thanked him profusely and said he needed to get on his way. And he was gone.

Sam finished his lunch in silence, alone. He thought about Neil, about where he was going and where he would get his next lunch. He thought about what coincidental words the president was saying, that it is an American’s compassion for his neighbor that is our strength and that a neighbor’s love is something a government dollar doesn’t bring.

He also thought about an urban Catholic school legend that told in many ways by the good sisters in grade school in the ’50s. It’s about a kind man who helped the poor bum on the corner, gets hit by a car, dies, goes to heaven and meets Jesus Christ, who has the face of the poor man and thanks him for his kindness. These thoughts however struck him later; his first actions with Neil were merely instinct.

Sam is just another student at VCU. His story is just another occurrence on a cold Richmond afternoon. As I write these words, Sam’s story comes alive to me and I imagine a world where such a story is commonplace. Such a simple service he performed, but what a tremendous impact it has on a man’s soul. Neil’s greatest gift he received was not the club sandwich, but Sam’s love. Sam took a homeless man out to lunch and describes the experience as Neil described the restaurant’s good value, “amazing.” I feel compelled to take Sam’s advice and “try it sometime.”

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