An unexpected gift in the gathering darkness

By Dick Hirsch

You know how it is in the spring. The days may be balmy but the nights can still grow cold with the onset of darkness. You may want to open the bedroom window a crack, but, maybe not. It’s still the blanket season...assuming you have a blanket and a warm place to sleep.

That’s certainly an assumption that is easily made. But as an editor once advised me: “Never assume anything. When you assume, you can ‘make an ass out of u and me.’”

It was past twilight. We were walking though a small public park in the gathering darkness, a group of 14 tourists who had just finished a farewell dinner after spending a busy week on the road. The sound of heavy traffic from one of the main streets nearby was clearly audible; it was not the most verdant of parks, but it was a welcoming enclave in the center of a busy neighborhood. This was in a megalopolis of over 15 million. The lights were on at the outdoor basketball court just a short distance away, and one of those marathon playground games was still underway. Fitness enthusiasts were still training on the equipment that was installed at intervals along one of the paths. We were strolling through the park on our way back to the hotel.

Then there was an unexpected incident. I have thought about it several times ever since my return and I decided I had to do something about it, and that usually means writing it all down and telling the story. I suppose it could be called an incident report, although incident reports usually carry the connotation of unexpected negative developments. This development was surely unexpected, but it wasn’t negative.

As we neared our destination of the hotel, Sheila observed that on previous walks each time she had taken that same path in the evening she had seen a man, apparently asleep on a concrete bench.

“Can you imagine how uncomfortable that must be?” she asked. And before anyone could reply, she pointed at a reclining figure and added, in a voice tinged with excitement: “There he is. Can you see him?”

We all stopped to look and when you encounter an image of such lonely misery and desperation, I suppose it’s natural to be glad that it isn’t you who must sleeping in a park on a concrete bench. Would most people be sympathetic with those in such a situation? Sympathetic? Yes. But likely to continue walking? Yes. We’re mostly preoccupied, too busy to be bothered with such matters, aside from writing an occasional check to support agencies that deal with those who live in poverty and are consigned to life on the streets and sleeping in the park.

Then a strange thing happened.

One of the group stepped from the path and over the lawn toward the sleeping person. He said nothing, walking with a determined stride. Then he changed his gait, moving more slowly as he approached the person, obviously being cautious, perhaps fearful the sleeping man might suddenly awaken and believe he was about to be attacked. He stopped within a few feet of the bench and we could hear him tentatively speak:

“Hello,” he said. There was no response. This was in a foreign city, so the sleeping man would surely not understand English.

Again the man spoke, but we couldn’t hear what was said. The sleeping man heard, however, and lifted himself on one elbow to consider the situation, to see what or who had interrupted his rest. Then, without saying another word, the visitor pulled his sweater over his head, tossed it to the man on the bench, turned, and walked back toward our group. He stopped after a few steps, pivoted, looked back and waved toward the puzzled man on the bench. The sweater was on his lap. He waved back. We couldn’t see, but he must have been grateful and smiling.

It was a simple act, but a touching scene.

As the man rejoined our group he was greeted by back slaps, handshakes and warm embraces. He was embarrassed by the acclaim and denied any humanitarian motivation, saying he had suddenly decided the man needed the sweater more than he himself did.

As we continued toward the hotel we could see the man, sitting erect now, pulling his new blue sweater over his head and then settling back down on the concrete bench.