Bay Area Stew
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The $5 Bill
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I was on my weekly sojourn into the Tenderloin, one of the underbellies of our city. I venture there each week as a volunteer for the nonprofit, Care Through Touch, which provides a free service for the people who live or hang out in the Tenderloin. My service is very simple, so mundane and yet critical. I do the laundry! The laundry is easy—only towels and pillowcases that cover a pillow used to provide a seated massage for 20 minutes—free—for any guest who asks for it at the various Tenderloin sites where the massages are scheduled weekly. Although I do not provide massage and I have little to no direct contact with the guests, I am truly tickled by both the smallness of my contribution and its importance. No clean towels; no massages for guests.
Last week I was at my usual laundromat on Eddy Street. It is the same block and side of the street as the Tenderloin Police Station. Needless to say, on the sidewalk of this particular block, there are fewer people hanging out, nobody selling anything, nobody sleeping, and nobody injecting themselves. Most of the people on the sidewalks of this block are passing by or live here or are shopping or using the laundromats. On one corner is a convenience store, very neat and clean with lots of alcoholic beverages and snack items. On the other end is the police station. In between, most every doorway is shielded by heavy cast iron gates that clang shut after being opened. A roasted chicken shop sells to-go chicken. A Southeast Asian Services nonprofit appears to have little traffic during my time on the block. A public garbage can near the corner has often been tipped over and ransacked for food or sellable items. The garbage just litters the sidewalk. The two laundromats are constantly busy. Near the police station, between vacant storefronts, sits a dark and narrow Asian grocery store, full of fruits and packaged foods that are mostly unfamiliar to me. Residential hotels and apartment buildings, each with the clanging cast iron gates, fill most of the block. There is little sun as the sidewalk faces north. To me it is a dreary block. As I was waiting for the towels to dry last week, I decided to walk around a bit. I passed the elderly Asian man that I see every week. He is always sitting on the cement steps of the Fashionette Apartments, his crutches beside him, the cast iron gates behind him. Sometimes he is eating, sometimes conversing, in a language I do not know, with someone who has stopped to chat. Every week I look at him hoping to connect, but he never meets my eyes. I know he sees me but I respect his boundary and walk on. I pass two Asian ladies in deep conversation by a parking meter and walk on. All of a sudden I see a $5 bill on the sidewalk! I look up and down the block but nobody who might have dropped it is near me. As I pick up the money, I decide to give it away. First to the two ladies by the parking meter. No, no, no! Waving of hands, big smiles on their faces, but they want no part of the money they just saw me pick up from the sidewalk! Then I turn to the man sitting on the steps of the apartment building. I don’t even say anything, just hold the bill out to him, but he is not receptive either. He shakes his head, waves his hand in rejection and says, “No,” while glancing at me and then lowering his gaze to the sidewalk. Next I approach a young man standing outside the laundromat. He sees me coming, waving the $5 bill, shakes his head and puts up his hand. |
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Is there something wrong with this $5 bill? I never thought so many people would turn down free money! I enter the laundromat and see a middle-aged man standing just inside. He smiles at me and I hold out the $5 bill to him. He takes it! I beam a searchlight smile at him because, at long last, I have found someone willing to receive this money! And he beams a searchlight smile of delight back at me and thanks me enthusiastically. He tells me he is the oldest of 12 children, but he is the best looking of them all! I am tickled by the incident of the $5 bill as I fold my dry towels and take them back to the agency.
The next week, while the towels are in the dryer, again I decide to walk a little and see if there might be more money on the sidewalk. I pass the same man sitting on the cement steps of the Fashionette Apartments, crutches by his side, cast iron gates at his back. I nod at him and this time he nods back at me! I’m so pleased. We have made a small step, an acknowledgement of our common humanity. I continue down the block, my eyes on the sidewalk. No money. I even cross the street and walk a second block. No money. I turn around and make my way back toward the laundromat. As I approach this man that I have wanted to connect with for weeks because he is the one person who is always there, I smile, put my hands in my pants pockets, and then pull them out, turned up, with fingers splayed in the common gesture of emptiness. He laughs! And he shakes his head, and says, “No! No!” his fingers spread in a similar gesture. Our eyes meet and we smile at each other and nod our heads. At last! I am walking on air as I re-enter the laundromat to take my towels out of the dryer. That mysterious $5 bill turned out to have a priceless value. |
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Barbara Applegate is a retired administrator of Early Childhood Education, mother of three daughters, a traveler and contemplative. She enjoys writing but finds it challenging to write consistently. She loves taking writing classes—not just because she learns from them, but because they give her structure for writing.
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Vistas & Byways Review is the semiannual journal of fiction, nonfiction and poetry by members of Osher Lifelong Learning Institute (OLLI) at San Francisco State University.
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Osher Lifelong Learning Institute at San Francisco State University (OLLI at SF State) provides communal and material support to the Vistas & Byways volunteer staff.
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