I was enjoying a lunch recently at a local diner when a man that had obviously not enjoyed much of anything in a while walked in and promptly positioned himself in line. You can’t judge a book by its cover, but this man’s cover – tattered clothes, unkempt hair, etc. – looked of quite a disheveled life.
The man spoke in a polite nature, even if his words were hard to interpret. He stood in line next to a couple of men who obviously enjoyed a better lifestyle, or at least as their cover – pressed shirts, ties, slacks and nice shoes– suggested.
The businessmen, rather than turning away and ignoring the troubled man, actually asked him the generic “How are you today?” The man may or may not have been asking for a handout – I couldn’t understand his words – but it was quite obvious that he needed one.
The line shuffled and without hesitation one of the sharp-dressed men told the cashier to put the troubled man’s meal on his ticket. Realizing the kind offer, the man said a few low-key “Thanks” and went on to eat his lunch.
That type of pay-it-forward attitude was good to see, particularly since the act of kindness helped nourish a man’s body rather than help him buy another bottle of something that would only temporarily numb his troubles.
I became quite familiar with troubled individuals during my time covering courts. In a rural place that could be Anywhere County, Tennessee, the jail and the sheriff’s office are usually in quarters so cramped that you can’t help but be around the two simultaneously. And when a jail has trustees that are allowed to roam free at times to run errands around the building, well, I got to know many of these guys on a first-name basis.
Knowing I was the local editor, these inmates often opened up. Over an eight-year stretch I probably had two insults hurled at me, while the rest often just wanted to speak to someone that wasn’t wearing a badge for a change.
I don’t know if I ever heard of an inmate who didn’t proclaim his innocence during his initial incarceration, but even the most hardened of criminals often have reality checks as they lay in their less-than-stellar living quarters at night.
There was one guy who had come from a very good family. He wanted me to write about how methamphetamine had destroyed his life. He was about to be “sent south” to a state penitentiary. I often thought of how nice and honest the guy seemed after he was sent away, and wondered if he were indeed just another one of those that talked a good story but did very few good deeds. I ran into him years later after he had been released. He was working for his parents’ business. He had packed on a few pounds and was helping customers when he spotted me. I hardly recognized him when he came up, smiling and extending a handshake. He had been released a while and had obviously cleaned up his act.
The guy couldn’t wait to introduce me to his young son, who was climbing on something nearby. He was as proud as any parent could be. I left there that day with such a good feeling.
Then there was the case of a guy I was able to interview just before he was to be sent away for 40-something years for killing his wife during a Thanksgiving Day argument. The couple had been drinking all day. He told me that alcohol had controlled his life. Talk about remorse… this guy had enough for everyone in his cell block. Already in his 40’s, it was difficult to look at the man, who cried during the interview, and know that he would likely never see his daughter again from anywhere but behind prison bars.
This man killed his wife, yes, and he certainly deserved to be locked away. He seemed as nice as the average Joe, but the punishment had to fit the crime. What was hard to comprehend was that all of this resulted from an alcohol-induced decision that took probably less than five seconds.
Count to five and think how drastically different someone’s life can change in that amount of time. It could mean having to wear a tattered cover. It could mean the difference in life or death.