I believe I have a love/hate relationship with Wal-Mart. I love the selection of products, but I am not so crazy about the long checkout lines or the mini, multiple traffic jams and occasional fender bumpers in the parking lot. I love seeing friends and acquaintances and I am always interested in making new, abbreviated friendships while looking for treasures.
I usually leave the store just a little overwhelmed and a bit daunted. How did I spend over $200 when my intent was to pick up diet soda and some cleaning supplies? Why do I now own three gem colored tank tops, another bottle of Baby Soft perfume, and seven shiny barrettes for my hair? Ah! Such is the magic of the superstore.
On this particular afternoon, I left Wal-Mart pushing a cart overloaded with goods. It was humid to the point of being uncomfortable, and my focus was getting my purchases into my car, placing the cart in the corral, and driving straight home. Well, maybe I would make one stop at Arby’s and grab a small shake — Mocha to be exact.
As I left the confines of the building and headed toward my car, I noticed a man approximately in his 30s, following me. I assumed he wanted my shopping cart, so I opened the back of my car and began unloading my things. He stepped forward suddenly, his hands in his pockets and his head lowered. “M’aam, do you happen to have a dollar I could have?” I turned quickly to face him, my mind drawing a complete blank. The last time I had been asked for money was nearly 15 years ago, on the streets of Washington D.C. I had placed three dollar bills into an empty Kentucky Fried Chicken plate that was thrust toward me by an elderly woman who had no lower limbs. She was alone, sitting in a tattered wheelchair on Pennsylvania Avenue; no more than 500 feet from the White House.
To this day, I am haunted by her memory. We spend hundreds of thousands of dollars for custom White House china, while one of our own begs for food just beyond the immaculately groomed and vibrant green White House lawn.
Today, I had no dollar and I felt compelled to explain the reason why.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I only have my debit card. “ I nearly went on to tell him that I would gladly go to a bank or back into the store and get him some cash. I even contemplated asking him if there was something specific he needed that I could go and get for him. Did he need food? Clothing?
But instead, I turned my back on him and continued unloading my things.
“That’s OK, m’aam. Have a great day.” He walked away slowly then; back to the front of the store where I watched him lean against the brick wall. Surprisingly, I felt shaken. I put the cart into the corral and got into my car, turning on the engine and the air conditioning. Looking over my left shoulder, I saw him move from the storefront and begin following another shopper; a lady just about my age with a heaping cart of purchases.
“Wow,” I whispered. I leaned my head back against the headrest for just a few seconds before I pulled away from my parking space and headed home. The man’s intention was obvious. I wondered how many people he had approached before and after me. Did any of those people hand him a dollar or two? Or did they simply turn their backs as I had done. Did he have a sick child at home, or was he motivated by an uncontrollable drug addiction? Were his cupboards bare? Did he have no place to lay his head at night? Whatever the motivation, he felt it necessary to approach strangers and ask for money.
I arrived home with my packages, asking myself yet again why I had spent so much money on items I truly did not need. I know that I cannot save the world; not with three dollars cast with great guilt into a paper plate, and certainly not with one dollar given to a man in the Wal-Mart parking lot. There are thoughtful, generous, genuinely caring people and organizations throughout this country and more specifically, right here in Aroostook County. There are many among us in desperate need; be it from drug addiction, a wounded economy, or unwise life decisions.
Homelessness and hunger are just the beginning of the heartbreaks we deal with every moment of the day in this country and all over the world; it is never ending and overwhelming, to say the least. Every prayer, every hot meal, every hand extended, every dollar, every kind thought and non-judgmental smile; all have an impact. And perhaps, from time to time, we should remind ourselves that but for the grace of God …
As we enter this joyous season, may you and those you love be richly blessed.
Belinda Wilcox Ouellette lives in Connor with her husband, Dale, and their Goldendoodle, Barney Rubble. You may contact Belinda online at dbwouellette@maine.rr.com.
