music
11th November 2011, 20:10
When I was 12 or so, I was at the train station waiting to get the train to school, and two of my friends said “Let’s go tease the old drunk who sleeps under the bridge". It didn’t sound in the least bit interesting to me, but I tagged along anyway. As they were yelling things to the man, my mother, who had caught the later bus and was heading to cross the bridge to her work, walked by and saw us.
All day at school, I was worried about what would happen when I got home. She would be very disappointed and upset with me. When she arrived home from work, however, she was quiet on the matter. Must be waiting for dinner I thought. Dinner came and went, still with no word. Hmmm, making me sweat no doubt, it’ll come after dinner. Eventually I went to bed, with no word from mum, and I began to think maybe she hadn’t seen me, and there was going to no punishment?
In the morning at breakfast, and as I got dressed for school, mum still said nothing, and I decided I’d been right – luckily, she hadn’t seen me. As I walked out the door to get the bus, however, she called me back. In her hands she held a parcel wrapped in brown paper, and tied with string. “These are some old clothes of your fathers. Do you know the old man that sleeps under the bridge?” I nodded. “Could you please give these to him, it’s starting to get cold and he will need them.” I grabbed the parcel and headed out, but mum called out “and don’t just throw them under the bridge – I want you to hand them to him and tell him what they are.”
So, being a curious sort, as I handed the man the clothes, I asked him why he slept under the bridge (as she knew I would), and received my lesson in compassion. The man had been a fairly successful sort, had a home and a family, until his wife and children were killed, ironically, by a drunk driver. He turned to drink, lost his job, then his house, and had ended up there, under the bridge.
I made sure nobody teased him again, at least if I was around.
All day at school, I was worried about what would happen when I got home. She would be very disappointed and upset with me. When she arrived home from work, however, she was quiet on the matter. Must be waiting for dinner I thought. Dinner came and went, still with no word. Hmmm, making me sweat no doubt, it’ll come after dinner. Eventually I went to bed, with no word from mum, and I began to think maybe she hadn’t seen me, and there was going to no punishment?
In the morning at breakfast, and as I got dressed for school, mum still said nothing, and I decided I’d been right – luckily, she hadn’t seen me. As I walked out the door to get the bus, however, she called me back. In her hands she held a parcel wrapped in brown paper, and tied with string. “These are some old clothes of your fathers. Do you know the old man that sleeps under the bridge?” I nodded. “Could you please give these to him, it’s starting to get cold and he will need them.” I grabbed the parcel and headed out, but mum called out “and don’t just throw them under the bridge – I want you to hand them to him and tell him what they are.”
So, being a curious sort, as I handed the man the clothes, I asked him why he slept under the bridge (as she knew I would), and received my lesson in compassion. The man had been a fairly successful sort, had a home and a family, until his wife and children were killed, ironically, by a drunk driver. He turned to drink, lost his job, then his house, and had ended up there, under the bridge.
I made sure nobody teased him again, at least if I was around.