On Dec. 4 I’ll be celebrating my 70th birthday. That’s unbelievable after all I’ve been through and managed to survive. It’s not just that I am alive, but I am actually thriving this late in life and doing some first-time things I’d never thought I’d have a chance to experience.
There’s no way you could have convinced me when I started this journey that I’d be enjoying the life I now lead. I am experiencing a lot of personal bests. I’ve been sober for close to a decade, housed pretty much for 13 years, and recently set a personal record of being in the same apartment for 5 years, which is a milestone considering the number of times I’ve been evicted for nonpayment of rent.
I’ve been banking at the same credit union for over 12 years and even financed and paid off a better car for myself with them after driving a series of rent-a-wrecks for years. I’ve had the same phone number for 15 years. I went back to school and became employable. And I was able to repair and now enjoy a great relationship with my daughter and now grandchildren. The list of personal bests just continues all because of the random acts of kindness I’ve been blessed to receive from friends old and new, strangers, and the compassionate people the God of my understanding has placed in my path.
The latter group would include my many great friends who are supporters of the Street Sense newspaper I’ve sold on and off for 17 years. I now distribute my papers at two markets. My longtime home away from home has been the Del Ray Farmers Market in the neighborhood I used to live in. And my newfound home is the Takoma Park Farmers Market thanks to my dear late friend Valerie. She was a long-time Takoma Park resident and one day just suggested I try it. “It’s a great fit for you and they are Street Sense people,” she said. And she was right. This validates my favorite African saying: “It takes a village to raise a child.” In my case, as I wrote in my first Random Acts of Kindness column years ago it takes a village (the fine people of those two markets and elsewhere) to reclaim a life — mine.
I cannot underestimate the power of kindness to change lives because of my experience with some powerful people whose superpower was their compassion for me and others. They were able to leap the tall buildings of trouble. They were faster in helping me solve my problems than the speed of a locomotive, and they helped fly me over the difficult periods of my life like a plane. Yes my friends to me are like Superman and Superwoman with real “S”s on their hearts and souls.
In my life they helped smash almost every mental and emotional villain that was attempting to crush my spirits. Not by just tangible gifts of support, but by always encouraging me to keep fighting for my life knowing they were there for me. The things I truly cherish are the times when my life was not going so well and many of them took the time to inquire about my well-being. One supporter once told me “You look disheveled, is everything ok? Are you on your meds?” Another once asked, “Are you drinking again?” Those were our golden moments as friends. Even though many of my supporters were at different stations in life I knew they really cared. And in the following years right to today, I continue to seek out their counsel on many issues from relationships, travel, medical care to employment decisions.
After years of knowing one such friend, I found out during a casual conversation that he was a doctor and he would guide me through my many health concerns. He was able to clearly answer all my questions about my operation this past September when I was scared to death. When I had already written my epitaph he took the time to reach out and assure me all would be well. I can never thank the people enough who have helped me reach this milestone in my life. There’s no way I would have bet I’d live this long let alone begin to prosper as a person. I have finally gotten to know who I am and believe in myself.
This all started by selling a street paper on a downtown corner during a bitter cold winter day in Ohio, where I had run to escape myself almost 24 years ago.
If I could line up the people who have helped change my life the line would stretch around a city block. And most of those faces I can’t even close my eyes and see them. But I remember their deeds and they live on in me as I pay them forward. At the strangest times I’ll recall a moment of their kindness, stop what I am doing and just smile wishing I could see them again to let them know how powerful their gift was against the forces of negativity trying to destroy me and that just for today we continue to win.
These folks were like the Good Samaritans of biblical fame: they did what they did and rode off. Like the guy in the white Ford who I met while distributing the paper late one night in Old Town. He asked when was the last time I had a good night’s sleep after looking closely at me. After learning I was living in my car he had me follow him across the 14th Street Bridge and wait as he went into a major motel chain office. He returned with door key in hand and gave it to me, saying “You have a room for the weekend, get some rest and enjoy yourself.” Then he drove off into the night and I never saw him or his car again.
With winter coming, I think of the couple in Cincinnati who encountered me distributing the local street paper as they were leaving a restaurant downtown. It was the middle of a snowstorm that only a homeless person or an idiot would be out in. They had compassion for me as I was dressed only in a trench coat, without a lining and sweater while shivering. The husband took off his hat then his gloves and placed them on my head and hands while his wife wrapped her giant knitted muffler around my neck and tucked it in my coat before wishing me well and walking off in the snow. That was over 20 years ago but still feels like it was last night. Their kindness is still fresh in my mind. And there was the owner of a breakfast place in Cincinnati who was a regular supporter of the street newspaper and homeless causes. He would not only buy my papers but would feed me and allow me to warm up on those cold mornings after being out all night with no place to go. Recently while visiting the city I sought him out at his restaurant and finally had a chance to thank him and tell him of the importance of his act and he remembered me.
These are the images of humanity I want to take to my grave. They are the reason I’ve written more than 20 essays about the power of kindness for this paper. And to my surprise, a couple of them were even nominated for writing awards. I even started wearing tee shirts, hoodies, and blue hats that say “Make America Kind Again” (MAKA), to remind people of my experience with the power of kindness. It’s not political because I am positive there were nice people from both parties in those bands of angels sent to rescue me over and over.
I never planned on living this long. I allowed the milestones of my life to pass by uncelebrated. I didn’t have 21st, 30th, 40th, 50th, or 60th birthday acknowledgments. But since this has turned out to be the favorite decade of my life and reaching 80 I’ve been warned is not a lock, I wanted to share my 70th with the people who made it possible for me to get here: the people who supported the street newspaper movement. You dear reader, are invited to my 70th birthday celebrations at the places our friendships blossomed. In yet another act of kindness the people who run the Del Ray Farmers Market and the Takoma Park Farmers Market are helping me celebrate. Please try to stop by and say hello so that I can personally convey my sincere thanks and gratitude for your continued encouragement, prayers, and support. Because of you, I am.
Wendell will be at the Del Ray Farmers Market on Mt. Vernon Ave. in Alexandria on Saturday, Dec. 5 from 8 a.m. to 12 p.m., and at the Takoma Park Farmers Market at Eastern Ave. and Laurel on Sunday, Dec. 6 from 10 a.m. to 2 p.m.
