UNTOUCHABLE NO MORE

UNTOUCHABLE NO MORE

Working second shift sucked. I’d bid on a better-paying position, but it meant switching to what I always considered the worst shift. So here I was, going to do three weeks of dirty laundry at 1:30 in the morning at the local 24-hour laundromat.

There were no cars in the lot, as I had expected. I should have time to just sit and read peacefully, but hopefully I would not fall asleep.

But as I opened the hatch of my Jeep Compass, suddenly there was a man standing beside me. “Gimme yer wallet an’ yer phone!” He waved a knife at me.

I closed the hatch and turned to face him. We stood about four feet apart. I could see some details about him in the LED parking lot lights. He had dark unwashed and uncombed hair. He hadn’t shaven in quite some time. His shirt was torn at the shoulder so the sleeve hung down his arm. His clothes in general were shabby. I guessed he was homeless. Strange how we make assumptions about people based on their appearance.

His knife looked to be a 6 or 9 inch blade kitchen knife. Probably serrated. Probably pretty dangerous.

“Look, you don’t really want to do this.” I locked eyes with him, remaining motionless.

“Yeah? Why not?” He scowled.

I slowly raised my left hand to my waist-level, not a threatening position. “Well, for one thing, a knife has got to be the easiest weapon to take from somebody. So there’s that.”

He waved the blade around to demonstrate he had perfect control. “Yeah? What else you think?”

“Well friend. I see you’re right-handed so, I’m a nice guy, I’ll break your left one. It’s impossible to stand when your femur, your thigh bone, which is actually the largest bone in your body, is completely broken in two. You know, we don’t think about how important the collar bone is for use of our arm, shoulder, and neck. Yet it’s one of the most fragile bones in the body.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it.” He moaned.

“I’m not done yet. Now if a person wanted to kill someone, that only takes two fingers.” I held up my index and middle fingers to demonstrate, and then crossed them as I explained, “All you have to do is put one finger on each side of the trachea, the windpipe, and twist. It will cut the windpipe. And within a minute, because they can no longer get air in their lungs, they die. Wow. I probably shouldn’t have told you that. You’re not going to go kill someone, are you?”

The man’s hand was shaking now.

“Anyway, I’m legally required to tell you that I’m a blackbelt in several martial arts and that I could seriously hurt or kill you in a conflict. There. You’ve been legally warned. So. What’re ya gonna do? Am I bluffing? Is it worth trying it?” I maintained eye contact. “Don’t worry. I won’t kill you. I’m a nice guy. I’ll even call the police and ambulance for you.”

I could see he was bewildered. “Are you going to give me the knife or am I going to take it away from you?” He handed me the knife. “Good. Now, We’re going to pretend this didn’t happen. Stand still. I’m not going to hurt ya.”

I opened the hatch, threw the knife in, pulled out a laundry basket and stuffed it in his hands. I grabbed another. He was confused. “Go on.” I motioned toward the door with my head.

We took the baskets in and sat them on the floor in front of washers. I asked him his name and with some hesitation he answered “Randy”.

“Randy. I’m Bill. There’re two more baskets. I need your help.”

He helped me with the rest of the laundry, then I put him to work. “You load those two baskets and I load these.” I think he was surprised how I treated him like a friend. He seemed bewildered but followed my instructions.

After we got the wash started, I invited him to sit with me and talk. He shrugged his shoulders and sat at a table across from me. He seemed uncomfortable.

“I work second shift. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here in the middle of the night doing my laundry. What brings you here Randy?”

He lowered his head. “I- uh- sleep here.” He looked up to see my reaction.

I tried to show nothing on my face. “Doesn’t sound very comfortable. I try to get some sleep in the mornings, but my body hasn’t adjusted yet to this shift.”

I turned sideways in my chair to assume a more casual conversational position. “What do you do during the day Randy?” I asked.

He seemed to be less tense. “I jus’ walk ‘roun’ town.” Randy knew his life was sad. It was a terrible existence. He’d dropped out of school in the tenth grade because he struggled with understanding what teachers said, and he couldn’t really read. His dad had always said he was “just stupid”. Randy lived with his parents until he was twenty-six years old.

When he told me about his mom dying when he was twenty-four, my eyes welled-up a bit. I told him that was how old I was when my mom had died. “It’s such a hard, hard thing, isn’t it?”

He nodded and sniffled. “Then my dad got real mean. He hit me a lot. An’ kicked me out two years later. That was last Christmas.”

It was now March. Randy had apparently homeless through the winter. “Did you have any family or friends you could stay with?”

“Stayed a li’l while with coupla frien’s, but jus’ till th’ firs’ snow was gone in Janyary.” He answered.

“You’re brave to live that life my friend but I gotta tell ya, robbing people is only going to end up bad for you. When was the last time you ate?” I had turned back toward him and leaned in to express concern.

Randy shrugged, “I dunno, Yessaday, mebbe day afore.”

“let me get you some food.” I considered a moment. “There’s nothing open this time of night, but I live just two blocks away. You watch my clothes, and I’ll run home and get you something to eat. Just one question: Are you allergic to peanut butter?”

Randy’s face brightened like a child in a candy store. “No! I love peanut butter!”

“Great. Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.” I was sure he wouldn’t leave. Not only was bringing the promise of food, but it seemed I had gained at least some of his trust.

I returned fifteen minutes later with two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, a couple oranges, some cookies, water, and a drink thermos of juice. I switched my laundry to the dryers while he devoured the grub voraciously. He had been starving. I did a good thing.

I sat down again and we talked for a long while. I encouraged Randy that there were local sources that could help him with shelter while they helped him get a home. There were also organizations where he could eat daily meals and get food to take home so he wouldn’t go hungry anymore.

I explained to him where to go and drew him a map showing where these services were located. He didn’t have a driver’s license, but he did have a social security card. It was ragged from carrying it in his pants pocket. I told him which of those services would help him get a new one. Randy thought it was cool that number never changes. I told him if he had a driver’s license, neither does that number.

“Now let’s talk about a job.” I knew Randy had a lot of barriers and limitations when it came to employment. It seemed he had basically two avenues. One, he could try to find a regular job that was okay with his disabilities and living situation. There may even be some decent-paying opportunities out there. I pictured Randy working on a trash truck. They actually make a nice wage, and it would fit his limitations. I wouldn’t know how to get him a job like that. The second avenue, and they likely would know how vocational rehabilitation was. Randy told me he had tried some jobs before but was frustrated because they never gave him enough training and he would get confused performing tasks. Again, I drew a map for him to the BVR (Bureau of Vocational Rehabilitation) in town. I explained how they could help him.

I could see Randy felt overwhelmed looking at the papers I’d given him. “Randy, I know I’ve given you a lot of stuff to do here. You know all these things will make your life better, right? You trust me, right?”

“I dunno why yer doin’ all this fer me, but yeah I trust you.” Randy nodded. But he still looked overwhelmed.

“Okay. I have an idea of what might help you with this. We’re going to number these things as far as what order you want to do them. When you’re doing number one, don’t even look at two. Just focus on getting number one done, and so on. When you do it this way, you’re doing one thing at a time. Make sense?”

Randy smiled and nodded. We numbered the priorities of the tasks, from food to housing, to clothing, to social security, and so on. When Randy followed these steps, his life would be changed forever.

I offered three hours a week to meet with Randy at the library to teach him to read. Literacy has always been my passion, and I have always helped people when I saw the opportunity. The ability to read opens the mind to ways of thinking that can’t be reached by any other means. It awards independence. I’ve seen it. Randy gladly accepted my offer and has faithfully attended our sessions.

He has struggled, but I have been there with him. I have supported Randy through all the difficult life transitions. He has literally turned his life around.

I invited him to my church, with no pressure to attend. He accepted. He is now learning about how God loved him, even when he was staying nights in the laundromat.

When he tried to rob me that night that was his first and only attempt. He was desperate. He needed food and didn’t know any other way. He had tried begging while he walked the streets of town all day but got only fifty cents. He’d been bombarded with rocks by kids when he was digging in a dumpster trying to find food.

Jesus reached out, touched a leper and healed him. I’m not Jesus but I try to follow His example. In His culture, lepers were the untouchables. He defied the norm and even the Jewish law to show compassion. In our culture, people like Randy Stone are mostly avoided, ignored, and even mocked. People are disgusted to see their condition.

But I reached out to him as a person in need of compassion. I became his friend. We became friends. I helped him in any way I could to heal his life. I didn’t do this to receive any praise for myself. I don’t write this story to make myself to be a hero. The hero of this story is Randy Stone. It takes courage to make the changes to change your life. I write this story to encourage people to reach out and to encourage the Randy Stone’s that it is possible.