Song: Hello In There
Artist: John Prine
Lyrics:
“You know that old trees just grow stronger,
Old rivers grow wilder every day.
Old people just grow lonesome, waiting for someone to say
Hello in there, hello.”
Margaret’s Birthday
By Ellen Kunasek (Heard It In A Song)
Margaret celebrated her 70th birthday alone. Well, most people wouldn’t have called it a celebration – there were no balloons or party hats, no cake and ice cream, and most of all, no guests. She didn’t kid herself, though – in her mind, any day she woke up alive was worthy of a celebration, and she tried to keep that thought in mind a little more than usual on her birthday, when feeling sorry for herself and getting depressed would have been so much easier. At some point during the day, she’d probably get a perfunctory phone call from her son John, and she wanted to sound chipper and upbeat, not like a needy old woman. She and Bud had missed him at first, when he married Linda and moved so far away, but he had been gone so long now that it was almost like he had never been here at all. He must have felt that way too, because whenever she talked to him, she could always detect a faint note of irritation in his voice –irritation and impatience, as if he wanted to get through the formalities of wishing his mom Happy Birthday, or Merry Christmas, or whatever, as quickly and painlessly as possible. He hadn’t been home in
years, and after a while, she and Bud had stopped even asking.
She had to admit, she did miss Bud today, though. He had been her steadfast companion for 42 years of marriage, and while in many ways he had been the most aggravating man she had ever known, she never doubted that he loved her, and did the best he could to be a good husband, and you can’t ask more than that from anyone. It was 5 years now since a heart attack claimed him, and as awful as it had been, losing him so suddenly, she had to admit now that she was glad it had happened that way. Bud had been diabetic, and had had a terror of losing his legs, or his eyesight, or both. A heart attack had spared him from that fate, and for that, she was grateful.
If he had been here on her birthday, he would have come home with a bunch of roses from the local Wal Mart – roses that drooped within hours of their purchase, no matter how carefully she took all the prescribed steps to keep them fresh – roses, and an extravagantly big, gaudy card. She had saved all those cards over the years – Valentines, birthday cards, Mother’s Day cards – she never wanted him to see her throw them away. It would have been like throwing away the thought and effort he put into picking them out. After all those years, he never figured out that Margaret thought buying cards for people you were going to see was silly – cards were for mailing, to people you couldn’t see because you were too far away. Maybe that was why now, when she could have thrown them away, she kept them – now they were from someone too far away to see again.
“Alright, enough of that,” Margaret admonished herself. The key to avoiding a lot of mental funks was not to let them get started, and she was determined that this one would never get a foothold. She resolutely put the thoughts of Bud and his big, glitter-encrusted cards aside. It was a lovely spring day, and she needed to get outside, if only for a few minutes. She decided to walk down to the convenience store on the corner – one thing she had done once a week for the last 5 years was to buy a lottery ticket. When Bud was alive, he bought one every week, and since he had been gone, it was something she felt compelled to do, even though when he was alive, she had paid little attention. She had never thought they had any chance of winning anything beyond a dollar or two, and in all those years, she had been right every time. Now, though, she did if for Bud’s memory – it seemed to be a connection between them, or maybe between the past and the present, she didn’t know.
As she approached the store, she saw that there was a shabby, rather grubby man there on the corner, holding a cardboard sign saying “Homeless Please Help.” She had heard that most of the people like him were homeless by choice, or maybe not even homeless at all, and that they made a pretty nice little income off the people who they guilted into giving them a dollar or two. Personally, she hoped that was true – it was much easier to think of him going home to a little house, or apartment, and counting his takes for the day, than it was to think that he was actually homeless and had nowhere but the street to sleep tonight. She never minded giving a few dollars to people like him – John had chided her for it, saying she was a sucker – but she figured she’d rather be a sucker than a heartless person who pretended not to see. You had to have some perspective about things like this, and John didn’t share hers, at all. Even as a child, he hadn’t understood when Margaret tried to teach him that people who beg for money, or food, are to be pitied no matter what their actual circumstances are. If they’re scamming people, well so be it. In Margaret’s mind, it was still a pathetic way to make a living, and she never begrudged them a few dollars.
She would have given this guy money too, but she didn’t see any hat, or bucket, or any kind of receptacle to drop it into, and while she was still wondering if she should just hand him a couple of dollars, he turned and saw her at the door of the Quik Shop. He came over and held the door for her, and as she passed him, Margaret was struck by his clear blue eyes. They didn’t look crazy, or spaced out on drugs or booze, like John had said all homeless people and beggars were – they were just kind, rather sad, blue eyes.
“Hello, ma’am,” he said as he pulled the door open. “Lovely day, ain’t it.”
“Indeed it is,” Margaret replied, and although she felt awkward doing it, she handed him her last $4 – the money she had been going to spend on lottery tickets.
“Thank you, ma’am, and bless you,” he said, and in that moment, Margaret knew that this was not one of the scammers, if such people even existed – she knew that this person really was homeless and in need, and as he shuffled back to his spot on the corner, she wished she had more to give him, or that there was something she could do for him.
Now, though, she was somewhat at a loss, as she stood in the middle of the convenience store and realized that she had no money. As she wondered how she could leave again without looking like a crazy
person herself, it occurred to her – she hadn’t checked her ticket from last week. Relieved that she actually could be seen to have a purpose in coming in, rather than looking like a forgetful old lady who wandered aimlessly into the store, she dug the ticket out of her purse, and peered at the winning numbers displayed behind the cashier’s counter.
Bud had always bought the same numbers… 3-6-12-19-43. He said they would be lucky someday – it was his and Margaret’s birthdays, and the year they were both born, 1943. Margaret had to look again when she realized that the winning numbers on the card were the same as on her ticket. Convinced that she had read them wrong, she looked again, and then at her ticket. It was the same numbers – she had won! The jackpot was a huge one, too – over 100 million dollars.
If the clerk had been at her register, she would have seen Margaret turn pale, and most likely would have started mentally reviewing how to do CPR – she would have been sure this old lady was having a heart attack or something. In fact, Margaret wasn’t so sure that she wasn’t about to pass out – she thought that she must be in shock, because she could hear a faint ringing in her ears, and she definitely felt light-headed. That passed in a minute or so, though, and she was left standing at the counter in a kind of daze.
The clerk chose that minute to come back from stocking a shelf, and she must have thought Margaret looked a little shaky, because she said “Are you OK, ma’am? Can I get you anything?”
“No……. um….no, I’m fine, thank you,” Margaret managed to reply. “Just felt a little dizzy. I’ll go home and lie down.”
“OK, if you’re sure,” the cashier said doubtfully. “I can call someone for you, if you’d like.”
“No, really… I’m quite all right, dear,” Margaret said, trying to sound strong and competent. She must have been convincing, because the cashier smiled at her and went back to stocking her shelf.
Margaret almost had to force herself to turn and walk out of the store – her first impulse was just to sit down on the floor, and keep sitting there until she had taken all this in. She was rich! In the blink of an eye, she had gone from living on a meager pension to having more money than she could live to spend. It was just too much to comprehend.
As she left the store, she noticed that the homeless man had gone, and she wondered if he had moved to a more profitable location, or if the police had told him to move on. For some reason, the memory of his sad blue eyes stayed with her, and she almost wished he had still been there. She had to laugh to herself when she realized that even if he had been there, she couldn’t have given him any money, even though she had 100 million dollars in her purse.
She and Bud had talked about what they’d do if they ever won, and she knew that the first thing she needed to do was hire an attorney, or someone to handle the actual collection of the winnings for her. As generous as she was, Margaret had no desire to be besieged by requests for charity – she would decide for herself what bequests she wanted to make, and for that reason, anonymity was essential.
She let herself in the front door of her tiny house and sat down in Bud’s old recliner. Her head was spinning with thoughts of what she needed to do, what she wanted to do, and what she COULD do now, that she never in her life would have been able to do before. Once again, the sad blue eyes of the homeless man came into her mind, and all at once, it washed over her… she could help him now. Him, and everyone like him. She could build a shelter, she could hire staff – she could actually DO something…something that she could see, and participate in, and take pleasure in.
She was sure John would disapprove, but his misgivings would come too late – if she got the right attorney, the money would be collected, and legally protected from John or anyone else telling her what to do or not do with it. Her shelter would be built and staffed and provisioned, and she would make sure it was funded in perpetuity.
Trying to remain calm, she went to the kitchen and made herself a cup of tea. Sitting at the kitchen table with it, she tried to decide what she needed to do first, and of course, it was obvious – first, she needed to secure the ticket, until it was time to actually redeem it. She got it out of her purse, and went to the bedroom, to Bud’s old lockbox. Once the ticket was locked inside, and the lockbox back on the closet shelf, she returned to the kitchen and got out the phone book.
There were hundreds of attorneys in the Yellow Pages, but only a few said they specialized in financial advice and planning, so she chose one whose name she liked, and whose office wasn't too far from her home.
Feeling happier than she had felt in a long, long time, Margaret sipped her tea and reached for the phone.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H_PbfxNsdZs
Artist: John Prine
Lyrics:
“You know that old trees just grow stronger,
Old rivers grow wilder every day.
Old people just grow lonesome, waiting for someone to say
Hello in there, hello.”
Margaret’s Birthday
By Ellen Kunasek (Heard It In A Song)
Margaret celebrated her 70th birthday alone. Well, most people wouldn’t have called it a celebration – there were no balloons or party hats, no cake and ice cream, and most of all, no guests. She didn’t kid herself, though – in her mind, any day she woke up alive was worthy of a celebration, and she tried to keep that thought in mind a little more than usual on her birthday, when feeling sorry for herself and getting depressed would have been so much easier. At some point during the day, she’d probably get a perfunctory phone call from her son John, and she wanted to sound chipper and upbeat, not like a needy old woman. She and Bud had missed him at first, when he married Linda and moved so far away, but he had been gone so long now that it was almost like he had never been here at all. He must have felt that way too, because whenever she talked to him, she could always detect a faint note of irritation in his voice –irritation and impatience, as if he wanted to get through the formalities of wishing his mom Happy Birthday, or Merry Christmas, or whatever, as quickly and painlessly as possible. He hadn’t been home in
years, and after a while, she and Bud had stopped even asking.
She had to admit, she did miss Bud today, though. He had been her steadfast companion for 42 years of marriage, and while in many ways he had been the most aggravating man she had ever known, she never doubted that he loved her, and did the best he could to be a good husband, and you can’t ask more than that from anyone. It was 5 years now since a heart attack claimed him, and as awful as it had been, losing him so suddenly, she had to admit now that she was glad it had happened that way. Bud had been diabetic, and had had a terror of losing his legs, or his eyesight, or both. A heart attack had spared him from that fate, and for that, she was grateful.
If he had been here on her birthday, he would have come home with a bunch of roses from the local Wal Mart – roses that drooped within hours of their purchase, no matter how carefully she took all the prescribed steps to keep them fresh – roses, and an extravagantly big, gaudy card. She had saved all those cards over the years – Valentines, birthday cards, Mother’s Day cards – she never wanted him to see her throw them away. It would have been like throwing away the thought and effort he put into picking them out. After all those years, he never figured out that Margaret thought buying cards for people you were going to see was silly – cards were for mailing, to people you couldn’t see because you were too far away. Maybe that was why now, when she could have thrown them away, she kept them – now they were from someone too far away to see again.
“Alright, enough of that,” Margaret admonished herself. The key to avoiding a lot of mental funks was not to let them get started, and she was determined that this one would never get a foothold. She resolutely put the thoughts of Bud and his big, glitter-encrusted cards aside. It was a lovely spring day, and she needed to get outside, if only for a few minutes. She decided to walk down to the convenience store on the corner – one thing she had done once a week for the last 5 years was to buy a lottery ticket. When Bud was alive, he bought one every week, and since he had been gone, it was something she felt compelled to do, even though when he was alive, she had paid little attention. She had never thought they had any chance of winning anything beyond a dollar or two, and in all those years, she had been right every time. Now, though, she did if for Bud’s memory – it seemed to be a connection between them, or maybe between the past and the present, she didn’t know.
As she approached the store, she saw that there was a shabby, rather grubby man there on the corner, holding a cardboard sign saying “Homeless Please Help.” She had heard that most of the people like him were homeless by choice, or maybe not even homeless at all, and that they made a pretty nice little income off the people who they guilted into giving them a dollar or two. Personally, she hoped that was true – it was much easier to think of him going home to a little house, or apartment, and counting his takes for the day, than it was to think that he was actually homeless and had nowhere but the street to sleep tonight. She never minded giving a few dollars to people like him – John had chided her for it, saying she was a sucker – but she figured she’d rather be a sucker than a heartless person who pretended not to see. You had to have some perspective about things like this, and John didn’t share hers, at all. Even as a child, he hadn’t understood when Margaret tried to teach him that people who beg for money, or food, are to be pitied no matter what their actual circumstances are. If they’re scamming people, well so be it. In Margaret’s mind, it was still a pathetic way to make a living, and she never begrudged them a few dollars.
She would have given this guy money too, but she didn’t see any hat, or bucket, or any kind of receptacle to drop it into, and while she was still wondering if she should just hand him a couple of dollars, he turned and saw her at the door of the Quik Shop. He came over and held the door for her, and as she passed him, Margaret was struck by his clear blue eyes. They didn’t look crazy, or spaced out on drugs or booze, like John had said all homeless people and beggars were – they were just kind, rather sad, blue eyes.
“Hello, ma’am,” he said as he pulled the door open. “Lovely day, ain’t it.”
“Indeed it is,” Margaret replied, and although she felt awkward doing it, she handed him her last $4 – the money she had been going to spend on lottery tickets.
“Thank you, ma’am, and bless you,” he said, and in that moment, Margaret knew that this was not one of the scammers, if such people even existed – she knew that this person really was homeless and in need, and as he shuffled back to his spot on the corner, she wished she had more to give him, or that there was something she could do for him.
Now, though, she was somewhat at a loss, as she stood in the middle of the convenience store and realized that she had no money. As she wondered how she could leave again without looking like a crazy
person herself, it occurred to her – she hadn’t checked her ticket from last week. Relieved that she actually could be seen to have a purpose in coming in, rather than looking like a forgetful old lady who wandered aimlessly into the store, she dug the ticket out of her purse, and peered at the winning numbers displayed behind the cashier’s counter.
Bud had always bought the same numbers… 3-6-12-19-43. He said they would be lucky someday – it was his and Margaret’s birthdays, and the year they were both born, 1943. Margaret had to look again when she realized that the winning numbers on the card were the same as on her ticket. Convinced that she had read them wrong, she looked again, and then at her ticket. It was the same numbers – she had won! The jackpot was a huge one, too – over 100 million dollars.
If the clerk had been at her register, she would have seen Margaret turn pale, and most likely would have started mentally reviewing how to do CPR – she would have been sure this old lady was having a heart attack or something. In fact, Margaret wasn’t so sure that she wasn’t about to pass out – she thought that she must be in shock, because she could hear a faint ringing in her ears, and she definitely felt light-headed. That passed in a minute or so, though, and she was left standing at the counter in a kind of daze.
The clerk chose that minute to come back from stocking a shelf, and she must have thought Margaret looked a little shaky, because she said “Are you OK, ma’am? Can I get you anything?”
“No……. um….no, I’m fine, thank you,” Margaret managed to reply. “Just felt a little dizzy. I’ll go home and lie down.”
“OK, if you’re sure,” the cashier said doubtfully. “I can call someone for you, if you’d like.”
“No, really… I’m quite all right, dear,” Margaret said, trying to sound strong and competent. She must have been convincing, because the cashier smiled at her and went back to stocking her shelf.
Margaret almost had to force herself to turn and walk out of the store – her first impulse was just to sit down on the floor, and keep sitting there until she had taken all this in. She was rich! In the blink of an eye, she had gone from living on a meager pension to having more money than she could live to spend. It was just too much to comprehend.
As she left the store, she noticed that the homeless man had gone, and she wondered if he had moved to a more profitable location, or if the police had told him to move on. For some reason, the memory of his sad blue eyes stayed with her, and she almost wished he had still been there. She had to laugh to herself when she realized that even if he had been there, she couldn’t have given him any money, even though she had 100 million dollars in her purse.
She and Bud had talked about what they’d do if they ever won, and she knew that the first thing she needed to do was hire an attorney, or someone to handle the actual collection of the winnings for her. As generous as she was, Margaret had no desire to be besieged by requests for charity – she would decide for herself what bequests she wanted to make, and for that reason, anonymity was essential.
She let herself in the front door of her tiny house and sat down in Bud’s old recliner. Her head was spinning with thoughts of what she needed to do, what she wanted to do, and what she COULD do now, that she never in her life would have been able to do before. Once again, the sad blue eyes of the homeless man came into her mind, and all at once, it washed over her… she could help him now. Him, and everyone like him. She could build a shelter, she could hire staff – she could actually DO something…something that she could see, and participate in, and take pleasure in.
She was sure John would disapprove, but his misgivings would come too late – if she got the right attorney, the money would be collected, and legally protected from John or anyone else telling her what to do or not do with it. Her shelter would be built and staffed and provisioned, and she would make sure it was funded in perpetuity.
Trying to remain calm, she went to the kitchen and made herself a cup of tea. Sitting at the kitchen table with it, she tried to decide what she needed to do first, and of course, it was obvious – first, she needed to secure the ticket, until it was time to actually redeem it. She got it out of her purse, and went to the bedroom, to Bud’s old lockbox. Once the ticket was locked inside, and the lockbox back on the closet shelf, she returned to the kitchen and got out the phone book.
There were hundreds of attorneys in the Yellow Pages, but only a few said they specialized in financial advice and planning, so she chose one whose name she liked, and whose office wasn't too far from her home.
Feeling happier than she had felt in a long, long time, Margaret sipped her tea and reached for the phone.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H_PbfxNsdZs