Stuff

Episode 51

Jimmy had not always been homeless. When he was a younger man, he finished two years of college, got married, had a steady job and a daughter. But something in Jimmy changed when his daughter turned five.

The other parents had left, dragging their sugar infused kids to the car. Jimmy and his wife were cleaning up when he looked at her and said, “Is this what life is all about?” She laughed it off, said something about the party being a little over the top but thought nothing more of the comment. Until the next morning.

She woke to find a note on the kitchen table beside a stack of credit cards, an ATM card and seventy-eight dollars and forty-two cents in cash The note was simple.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t be this person anymore. I’ve left all of my cards and the cash I had on the table. The car is still in the garage. All I’ve taken is a small duffle bag, a back pack and my bicycle. I will be in touch and make arrangements to sign any papers needed to facilitate our divorce and the transfer of all our assets to you. There is no way to explain this to you or our daughter as I can’t understand it myself. All I can say is I’m sorry.”

She was shocked, confused and angry. But she was no quitter. She and her daughter would be just fine. She waited for a year but finally accepted Jimmy wouldn’t return. She never spoke to him again.

But he continued to send letters to his daughter. They now spoke occasionally and he had traveled to see her a few times over the years. The only picture he owned was of her. He kept it in a small zip-lock bag with her phone number on the back.

Now Jimmy was in his early fifties. The vagabond life he had chosen was wearing him down. It had never been drugs, alcohol or being willing to work. For Jimmy it was about stuff. Or, his deep desire to not have any stuff.

Having a house meant you had to have stuff to keep up your yard, beds to sleep on, televisions to watch, closets full of clothes. Houses came with a lot of drawers and cabinets and they had to be full of stuff. You had to have cars and tools and pets. And with cars people usually traveled which meant you had to have suitcases and other bags to carry your stuff when you left your house full of stuff. Nope, not Jimmy.

His stuff consisted of a bike, something you could always get for free because people with stuff were always buying better stuff. He had an oversized backpack that held everything he needed: a toothbrush, an extra change of clothes, a rain poncho and a small scout tent. He worked when he needed money and once a month would find a cheap hotel for the night. Every other day he was at a laundry mat to wash his second pair of clothes. Once a week he would find people selling their stuff in their yard or garage to pick up a book or another pair of clothes or shoes. Getting stuff was easy.

And he equated money with stuff, so if he didn’t have any money, he wouldn’t have to worry about having stuff. But he recognized most people didn’t think this way.

Jimmy pulled his poncho over his head as it started to drizzle. The night was dark as he wheeled away from the convenience store, having purchased his annual birthday gift for his daughter. He headed to the place he would sleep for the night. He heard the screech of the tires but it was too late to avoid the impact. Jimmy was struck squarely and hurled over the top of the moving car. He hit the ground with a thud.

The paramedics were on the scene quickly and were able to stabilize him enough to get him to the hospital. He begged for a phone so he could call his daughter.

She didn’t recognize the number but cautiously answered anyway. The voice on the other line gave her the details and then her father was on the line.

“Honey, I’m hurt bad. I know tomorrow is your birthday and I’m not sure I will be able to call. Your present is in a bag with your picture. Hopefully you will get it and it will bring you good fortune. I love you; I have always loved you. I’m sorry.” She heard commotion on the other end and the first voice was back on the line telling her it didn’t look good but they would do their best.

She drove through the night and arrived at the hospital the next morning. She knew from the look on the face of the receptionist that her dad hadn’t survived. A hospital chaplain appeared and took her to a small room where a doctor met them.

“I was on duty in the emergency room when your dad arrived. It was assumed he had massive internal injuries but remarkably he had no injuries to his head. I asked questions about the areas where he felt pain but he would never answer me. He kept repeating that he had something in his bag for his daughter. A nurse finally looked in the bag and found this picture. He made me promise I would get this to you. I promised and within minutes he was gone. I’m terribly sorry for your loss.”

She tucked the picture in her purse.

The next few weeks were a blur as she handled the things that needed handling. Now, back home, she retrieved the zip-lock bag. She stared at her eighteen-year-old self. She unzipped the bag and let the picture slide out. Along with it was a single lottery ticket. She knew her father had purchased one every year on her birthday, saying one day it might hit and she would be set.

The drawing had been weeks ago so she searched on her phone for the winning numbers. When she saw the Powerball number she couldn’t believe her eyes – it was a winning ticket worth $325 million dollars, before taxes of course. Later she was ashamed that in the moment she had forgotten about her dad, focused only on all the stuff she could buy with the winnings.