The Welcoming Bench
Kreffan Bunker
Nov 22 2022
The Welcoming Bench
Nanette Looking was inscribed, in dedication, on its plaque. The bench itself was in the back garden of a Quaker Meeting house. It was in a small sitting area enveloped by a juniper thicket. The most magnificent greenery of the surrounding trees afforded much shade and seclusion. One could come to it and find their inner peace.
An old woman, wrinkled like a raisin, emerged from the thinnest section of juniper in the front to take a seat. Just before the bench were delicate flowers, densely packed like little bouquets. They were in bloom as vibrant clusters of yellow, orange, red, and white; these extended up the back side of it. Some petals were scattered on the dark soil below the bench from the heavy breeze.
Soon a boy, no older than fourteen, joined her. Their feet were hovering just above the tiny flowers. “And how are you, today?” “Fine. How ’bout you?” “Splendid. I remember we met during Meeting for Worship. I handed you the microphone for your introduction.” “Yep.” There was a brief silence without their words. Referring to the flowers beneath their feet, she said, “they’re so beautiful now that they’re in season!” “Huh?” “The lantanas I mean—they’re my favorite flower.” He looked wholly uninterested. “What’s the matter? Don’t you have a favorite flower?” She supposed he didn’t. “Well, I’m a dude so not really.”
She thought of how to best proceed. Maybe, she could bring up the dead rodent she had found on the back patio tiles outside the Worship room. He might like that. Yet, it was very gross the way it was sprawled out there. Ultimately, she decided against it. Just because he was a young boy didn’t mean he was into such unpalatable things. At least, she hadn’t been the one to clean it up. Instead, one of the others present had dealt with the rodent. Though, the tiles still needed to be washed off with the garden hose for they had residue. It was her belief that a larger bird (like an owl) had gotten to it. Very upsetting, regardless.
“Perhaps, I could feed you an old story of mine. Would you like to hear it?” He shook his head. “Really, it is a good one.” “I might like to hear it.” She waited for his confirmation. “I would like to hear it,” he said reluctantly.” “Okay, this is about my dear deceased friend, Nanette Looking.” “For what? Looking for what?” She paused to disapprove of his immaturity. “Move up, so I can see the plaque. I need to get my timelines right.” He scooted away from the middle to reveal the plaque. It read ‘From 1933 to 2011.’ “Hmm, it happened a further while back than I thought.”
“This is how Nanette got the plaque on this quaint little bench here. Circa 2008, she and I were assigned the task of managing the annual charity fundraiser. Initially, as we were to teach the children’s meeting that day, we thought it best to kill two birds with one stone. However, they were rambunctious. They wouldn’t buckle down and pot our paperwhite bulbs in the (rinsed out) jam jars that we had. So then, we stayed after Meeting to rise to the challenge. First, we settled the bulbs in the jars, covering their roots with tiny stones. Next, we filled the jars near precisely even with water. Maybe ‘precisely’ is inappropriate; keep in mind, it’s not an exact science. Finally, we tied colorful ribbons around them before placing them on the window ledge to await the sale two weeks from then.”
Seeing as thus far, it was a story about two old ladies and flowers, the boy was rather bored. He got up and tried to leave but he was jolted back. She had taken hold of his wrist. “Trust me, it will be worthwhile.” “I guess I’ll hear your story until my mom finds me to leave.”
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He sat back down and she let go of his arm. He yawned, but she ignored him. “Where was I?” “Flowers in pots ready for sale.” “Oh yes, we had just finished them. Two Sundays later, we set up a table with them in the foyer. The recommended donation was five dollars. This sale proved very unsuccessful, however. None of the Meeting go’ers were interested in purchasing them. Nanette even tried her signature stare down tactics, but to no avail. ‘What the heck is going on with these people. Charity! Charity!’ Nanette exclaimed. Nanette was no shrinking violet. I swear if she’d have had her hiking boots then she would’ve thrown them at the doorways to scare people back away from the exits. The crowd thinned and we were unhappy with our lack of sales. After all that time we’d put into potting the bulbs, to think that no one wanted them was very painful. Never in the decades that her and I had been attending were our fellow Quakers so averse to supporting our fundraiser. Years prior, we had at least had the elders pitch in a few dollars. Though now, it seemed we couldn’t get a single dime out of any of them.”
“We noticed a particular man in rather plain clothes who entered through a side door. Wearing a t-shirt and a sweatshirt tied around his waist, at first glance nothing looked out of the ordinary. From the front of him, we could see backpack straps. ‘Is this all you’ve brought with you?,’ Nanette said to him. I was puzzled how the question came from her. ‘All my worldly possessions. You try not to gather things,’ he said back. Then, I properly saw the rest of him; tape wrapped around tattered shoes. He had a look like he had been through the ringer. ‘I heard you have housing.’ ‘Well, we have the beginnings of a program.’ The boy had his own delayed realization, an echo of hers in that time before, “He’s homeless.” She nodded. “Nanette began to clue him in; saying that he’d be sleeping in the worship room with the regulars. She gave him directions to the handicapped restroom--the one with the shower. ‘Oh, look what we’re forgetting;’ she had said, ‘I’m Nanette Looking, this is my friend, Constance Farther.’ ‘Nice to meet you, I’m…’ I forget what his name was in this moment. It feels wrong to make one up, though. He asked us what we were doing just before and Nanette told him. Well, she was actually a couple steps ahead as she told him we were buying third world families some cattle. We were, in fact, raising the money with this aim.”
It was now a story about two old ladies, flowers, and a homeless man. The boy felt it not very promising. And yet, he stayed put. She knew he’d likely do so for sake of entertainment. “This man took an interest in our paperwhites. Initially, we were going to ask if he’d buy one. But given his circumstances, the question was never vocalized. Nanette, who was quite tall and could intimidate anyone, stared him down as she had the other Meeting go’ers. But eventually, she paid the five dollars to our box and let him take a bulb. He was thrilled. We had a long talk with him, getting to know him somewhat better. He told us about him having some problems with mental illness. However, he kept it brief and we heard only bits and pieces initially. He’d been evicted from his apartment several weeks prior. This man was just trying to get back on his feet. ‘Is there a career you’d want to have?’ ‘I want to be a metal welder.’ That lent Nanette to ask, ‘Where are you on your path to becoming one?’
Constance took a minute’s pause. “Tell me, I wanna hear,” the boy had prompted. “Hold your horses, I’m going to, but this is where it got disappointing. We didn’t hear an answer then. Rather he asked us about our faith, ‘Do you believe in your religion?’ I answered, ‘Well, I believe that there’s a piece of God in all of us.’ Nanette then told him about SPICES and what it stood for and said simply that she agreed with those values.[1] ‘I don’t buy that there’s a God nor a piece of his light in every one of us,’ he responded. ‘Why not?,’ was my gentle question.
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Nanette, who was less spiritual than I, also listened intently for his answer. ‘Where I was living before, was a lot worse. Some locals called me harsh names and threw rocks at me. I got welts on my body and I would retreat into my tent so they couldn’t see they had hurt me. They would’ve wanted to. I might evade them by seeking refuge in my tent but sometimes they’d still pelt me when I was inside. It depended on how bored they were; how much time they had on their hands. It was all too unpredictable. The stress vulnerability caused; I can’t pretend to humor you and your thing about God.’
The boy got a text from his mother and told the old woman he had to leave. She, of course, told him that they could resume the story the following Sunday. Funnily enough, he agreed. She knew her story would hold its weight.
The next week, as the 11 am bells of the neighboring church rang, the two reunited at the bench. “So,” he said, “Shouldn’t the homeless man have a name?” “What a great sentiment. Yes, actually I do remember now, it was Gordon Slight—It would be awful to forget especially given how he was dehumanized.” The boy smiled for a fleeting moment. “What did you say to him after that?” “What could we say? We didn’t know what that was like. Nanette finally said, ‘Let’s get you situated and secured.’ She brought out a plastic tub from the piano room so he could have larger storage for his personal items. There he put his paperwhite bulb and a ratty toothbrush we replaced. Gordon took a shower. After that, the regulars started coming in. One of the homeless was a macho-seeming hispanic man. He always walked in like he owned the place though probably to avoid his embarrassment. Another was a squat black woman with a dream to do professional catering. Finally, there was a caucasian gentleman prone to seizures. Gordon met them and felt a little out of place. The macho man flexed at him and said he was top dog since he’d been here the longest.”
“I fixed up our dinner as Nanette stayed in the worship room with them. ‘So you think your top dog?,’ I heard her say from the kitchen. “She’ll check him.” “Nanette was keeping tabs on him. It was only after I fixed up something of a meal, that she was about to start with him. They waited in line and the macho man pushed to the front. ‘Serve me first, I’m hungry.’ To tell you the truth, I was intimidated and only thought to comply. Nanette moved into the kitchen beside us and gave him a dinner bowl of soup and sent him away. The rest of them she gave spoons too with the soup so they could enjoy it sooner. The man, agitated, went back and snatched a spoon.”
“We all had people to sit with and the squat woman said to Gordon, ‘You ever ask me what I like about this place, newcomer, I’ll say the companionship.’ ‘How well do you know any of them,?’ he retorted, and ‘How well do they know any of you?’ We all understood that Gordon was no easy optimist. ‘Taste this soup, this is pretty good,’ Nanette changed the subject. ‘Well, our program has some funds,’ I said. ‘I must help you cook sometime. We’ll make that much better soup.’ ‘As long as you wash your hands like I do.’ ‘Deal, Farther.’ She and I kept on our banter. Nanette again asked Gordon, ‘How close are you to becoming a welder?’ ‘I still need my GED, I got sidetracked.’ ‘If you need anything.’ ‘I’ll get back to you on that.’ It was nice being together, everyone knew that they had a friend. Even the macho man had someone; he sat with the other regular, the gentleman with the seizures. I couldn’t have told you how, but they seemed to get along well. Despite his macho nature, he was gentle with the frail man.”
“The homeless folks grew on us and off us and our help. Gordon revealed himself bit by bit, ‘I want to work with aluminum when I get the chance. From it, fine even vases can be made, I’ve seen. There was one in my apartment lobby behind a barred window.’ Noting his artistic leanings, Nanette encouraged him, ’We might in fact be able to pay for your classes and training.
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You probably would get your chance there.’ ‘You don’t owe me anything.’ ‘I’d say everyone is owed their chance to be a productive member of society.’ ‘That I can’t argue with.’ ‘When we allocate our resources we’ll be thinking of you.’ ‘Constance, we’ll help him so long as that’s what he’s after,’ said Nanette. ‘About my studies, I had to quit; I wasn’t up to the challenge. Part of it was the money. But, more I couldn’t keep it together.’ ‘What’s the barrier?,’ Nanette asked. Gordon was silent. ‘Maybe some other time.’ Where Nanette was demanding, even she knew to let up. As their hosts and advocates, it was still disappointing to have our help turned down.”
The boy stretched out his feet onto the soil beneath the two bench sitters, then he raised them up not many centimeters and pulled his slouchy pants up a bit. “Some prolly don’t want any help!” “Do tell?” “My mom said this one homeless lady on the street refused even when she bought her a muffin.” “She may have been too proud. Sometimes that can be an issue.” “Na-uh, she wanted money for food she said, but after Mom surprised her by going in a store and coming back with a muffin, she got nasty. She threw it in her face and said, ‘I don’t want your damn muffin.’ Mom cried, she was only trying to help!” “That’s too bad.” “You know what I think; she just wanted money for drugs and alcohol to feed her habit.” “That could be,” Constance conceded. “And my dad said the gas station he goes to, there’s this homeless man who asks for money for a train to a shelter in LA and he never leaves.” “It could be that he doesn’t get enough money.” “Look, it’s a scam. Someone must’ve given him enough. I’m sure.” “Do you know?” “I believe it.” “That’s unfortunate. When some folks do such misguided things, it detracts from those honest and hardworking. We must remember the homeless are people and people are flawed, but they all deserve dignity and respect including a safe place to sleep.” “All of them?” “I should say, how else can we recognize our mutual humanity?”
“The others took your help?” “That’s right, but not right away. They too needed time. Nanette and I were let in and that was more important to us than anything we could’ve done for them. Gradually, the squat woman said, ‘I’d like to plan and put on dinner events for people, with special decorations and food.’ Now that we were getting the specifics, we listened excitedly, ‘I might want to do it up North in Wine Country. Then, I’d outsource to the local markets. It’d be great if I had the connections.’ Gordon was overhearing her and said, ‘You’re ambitious; I think you could definitely do that someday.’ ‘Why thanks, Gordon,’ she went towards him to fist bump. He caught on and hesitantly it came together. The white gentleman wanted spending money; some of it for a homemade birdhouse he had spotted in a shop. ‘I want to have that for when I get my house with a maple tree. Preferably a Japanese maple.’ The macho man laughed, ‘You’ve got it all wrong: spending money is to entertain a few women that hang onto you. Flash some cash and they’ll love it.’ Gordon whispered to Nanette, ‘I bet he gets nowhere with the ladies.’ He went on, ‘You want ones with the premium booty, then you have other’s respect and they won’t mess with you anyway because you’re…’ The squat woman said, ‘Top dog?’ and rolled her eyes. ‘That’s right.’ Nanette said to Gordon low, ‘I’ll say.’”
“One of the next nights, Gordon gave us a ponder-some…ponderous…analogy—maybe that’s not a word. Do you know; are you a wordsmith?” “I do terrible in English.” “It’s okay. Anyway, he compared homelessness to a turtle’s life story. Yeah, he said, ‘I’m a turtle in more ways than one: I live in a shell and one would think it’s sturdy, stable—it’s my permanent home where I’m welcome even where else I’m not; a place I can go and retreat—I can take crap from others and be mistreated but I am resilient—but ultimately I can be killed like anything.’ ‘That’s so interesting,’ I had said, ‘Usually one would think that’s counter-intuitive because turtles have a built in home.’ ‘You mean a physical one.’ ‘True,’ Nanette had said, ’you always have your skin but also a mental refuge. It’s when you can’t find any peace when you crack and that, at
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least from my mind, half kills you.’ Nanette and I had had our disagreements over the years but this one was particularly controversial. ‘You’re saying you lose something?’ ‘Yeah, your marbles. Often times, you’re never as well as you once were.’ ‘You’re saying you don’t recover?’ ‘Not fully, no.’ ‘I think you can live with any pain, slowly heal with time, and get better.’ ‘Constance, those people would like escapism.’ ‘Those people?’ ‘I only wonder if it decimates...’ ‘Careful Nanette, you might say something untoward.’ ‘If it does irreparable harm to the little sense of belonging they may ever feel.’ Nanette’s words may’ve sounded harsh, but Gordon took them at face value. ‘I think we feel a sense of belonging as long as we feel welcome and notice the warmth others have for us. I’m slowly feeling right at home (if I ever had one so certain).’ ‘Aww, Gordon that’s touching,’ I said. ‘We’ll keep you around,’ Nanette verified teasingly.”
A steady wind blew at them and the tiny flowers beneath parting some of the ones not yet mature from their stems to the dark soil below. “Did Gordon confide more in Nanette?” “From there, he found a way or maybe she found a way for him. Anyway, it was quite lovely: he gave her personal details quickly which I would not hear for many months; I think it’s okay if I tell you them to some extent, he’d want anyone to know the depth of their relationship. He told her, maybe a half a week later, how he became homeless, ‘I was working out of state with a job transporting things from point a to point b on a semi-truck. Yep, I was a trucker, that might sound lame.’ ‘I don’t think it’s lame at all, they’re an important part of our standard of living,’ said Nanette. ‘Nice of you to say. While I was doing my job, fulfilling one of the longer hauls, I got a call from my senior neighbor in my hometown; they cautioned me that my mom had fallen and broken her hip and said it might be better to have someone to take care of her. Naturally, I thought to go there and live with her while she was facing health problems. So, I moved my wife and me back to my childhood home. Now that was a far move, but I kept the job just having to transfer to a new hauler.’ ‘Couldn’t get rid of you could they?’ ‘That was fortunate. We settled in, things were fine, I worked out a deal with my wife that she would look after my mom when I was away for work. She was awesome! That way we wouldn’t have to pay for a caretaker which we likely couldn’t afford. My mom was recovering and we got by for a decade or so.’ ‘Your life doesn’t seem too jolting thus far.’ ‘Just wait. In the wake of my mom’s funeral, we decided, since the house was ours now, to stay put. We raised a daughter there I realized my job was too taxing so we lived off our savings until I could get one with less moving around. My wife wanted more independence and rightly she got it; now she was the one with the job (at a library as circulation staff).’ ‘That’s a fine occupation; Constance worked in references when she was younger.’ ‘Thanks. Yeah, she was happy. I was fine to stay at home with my daughter. But one summer, my child was telling me how her abdomen was hurting. I said it’d probably blow over. I didn’t want to take her to the ER and probably spend money on nothing. But…’ At this, he cried in front of Nanette, bawling actually. ‘If it’s too hard don’t say it.’ ‘Her appendix burst and she died. I killed her—it was me. My wife didn’t even know about it.’ ‘Say no more.’ It was a while before he revealed all the subsequent details. Ultimately and this is too awful to say.’” “I can handle it,” the boy said, “I saw a dead rat, the first day we met, on my way over and it was nothing.” “No, I couldn’t answer to my conscience if I did.” “Yeah, my mom would probably get upset if I got nightmares after talking to some old lady.” “Hey!” “A cool old lady.” Constance bowed her head lightly. She remembered where she was, “The point being this was all very tragic he lost his daughter and his wife left him and it nearly broke Gordon. However, he persevered and, even though he had no job and little to his name, he ended up here for our help
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which was very humbling.” “I like Gordon.” “We all like Gordon.” The kid got a text, “I have to go.” “Have a good day, little dude.”
The following Sunday, the two friends reunited at the bench. “Where’d we leave off? Oh yes, I remember: By that point, Nanette could only tell me that they had gotten closer. I was pleased. We were all back together, another day. The squat woman (her name comes to me now it was Marnie) and I were preparing dinner and we got to talking, ‘You seem to have a handle on that stew.’ ‘Sure do, Farther; I know the ins and outs of broiling beef and diced carrots.’ ‘Is there cabbage in that?’ ‘No the fridge only had a head of lettuce. We can’t do anything with that, now can we?’ At this, I laughed lightly. ‘Have you ever considered a job where you cook for people, like a home health aide.’ ‘I’ll tell you what, from my position, I like to help the less fortunate. If there was someone in need-’ ‘There’s always someone in need. I know a disabled woman with cerebral palsy whose assistant moved away, unfortunately.’ ‘I don’t know…You know what, I’d be up for the challenge.’ ‘It’s grueling work: cleaning, bathing, fetching groceries, cooking dinners and so on. However you’d be a great help and I know she’d appreciate what you do for her.’ ‘When can I meet the woman?’ ‘That’s the spirit. I’ll arrange something.’ Funny, you revive a story and the details come back to you. Gordon and Nanette were having a laugh about something, perhaps one of Nanette’s anecdotes about teaching high school math. The ill gentleman and the macho man were bonding over stories of their childhood holidays. All was very well.”
“Suddenly, the gentleman was shaking vehemently, closed his eyes, and fell on the floor headfirst. As he was on the ground unconscious, he was flailing his arms and legs uncontrollably. The macho man said, ‘Help! Help! Call an ambulance!’ Nanette was on it, ‘Hello? Yes, my friend is having a seizure, he’s hit his head…I’m not sure if he’s bleeding, please come right away!’ The ambulance came and Nanette and the macho man, who was now understandably disturbed, rode in the back of the vehicle with them.”
“Was he alright?” “Well yes, but they didn’t think to medicate him, they stabilized him and let him go in the middle of the night. I know what you’re thinking; how did Nanette stand for this? She had to leave early because she was ‘up in the doctor’s face.’” “She should’ve been. Doctors can be absolute crap.” “There are a lot of good ones, though. I do think this particular one didn’t really want to help him.” “Was he biased?” “She might’ve been. Often times people want to get paid. Why would any common person help someone that couldn’t pay out? Forgive me, Nanette struck a chord in all of us that day when they returned. You should’ve seen how distraught the macho man was, especially—he felt powerless.”
“One day, the budget had passed and we had a chance to give our homeless friends some money for spending and specific purposes we’d already agreed upon. By then, Marnie had already begun her professional work as a health aide. In addition to giving her a hand-me-down apron with a siren centered in a circular green background weeks prior, we gave her some money to get herself a functional timepiece and proper cleaning supplies. Gordon, deciding to return to his studies, got money for basic school supplies and enough for his few remaining classes. The gentleman prone to seizures got some money for the birdhouse he’d eyed for a while now and some to save for his legitimate home. Now this was sweet, the macho man, realizing his money was better spent on his friend and his simple dream, gave much of it to him. This helped because apparently the birdhouse’s price had since been raised, oddly enough. To be sure, he was keeping some of it for himself to have if something came up. You bet he did not spend it on ‘the ladies.’” The boy found that hilarious.
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“The next time we all came together was about a week from that last finance day. Gordon had spoken openly that the only drawback of the GED was the math classes, ‘I struggle with basic algebra. Nanette, you said you were a teacher.’ ‘That’s right, Gordon.’ ‘You weren’t fired early or anything.’ ‘No,’ she shook her fist at him teasingly, ‘I can be your tutor if you want me to.’ ‘Thanks. You’re very generous and kind.’ Nanette and I laughed. To be sure, she was but those weren’t her most prevalent traits. When you get to know someone well, as they knew one another, there’s room to hear odd sounding compliments and admired qualities.” “I guess so,” the boy said amused. “So it was settled he’d have her as a personal tutor. He’d begin classes soon and felt all the more confident with Nanette in his corner. The macho man and the ill gentleman were playing Yahtzee on the floor and invited Marnie and I to the next game.
“We got to playing and I rolled four fives after my first attempt second go. ‘Well done, Farther.’ ‘Thanks, I’ll be keeping that.’ The macho man went and so did Marnie but they only got low value medium scores for theirs. ‘Dang it,’ said the macho man, the gentleman was up, ‘Good luck.’ In shaking the cardboard container out on the floor, he looked, counted, and said, ‘Yahtzee!’ That whole time we were behind and tried to catch up. Right after rolling three fours on his second go, the gentleman collapsed on the floor head first and was seemingly unresponsive. ‘What? No! Call an ambulance!’ Nanette called the emergency services, ‘Yes, my friend’s just dropped to the floor, it’s a seizure, please help and get here soon!’ Once the ambulance came, it would only take one extra person so we decided since the macho would be the best one to ride alongside the ill gentleman; oh yes, Trevor was his name.”
“The hospital wasn’t much help were they?” “You guessed it. They saw that he didn’t have internal bleeding, but he had a concussion, still they soon sent him on his way.” “That sucks.” Constance nodded and said, “The macho man was devastated; the only consolation was that he got to comfort his friend, being with him in the hospital room. ‘When they belittle you, I want to punch them in the face.’ Nanette said, ‘I’ve often wished I could slap certain people silly.’ ‘But Nanette, what about the SPICES?,’ Gordon said. ‘Hey, everyone can have their urges if they don’t act on them.’ ‘Sure.’ ’Besides, if they care about peace so much why is it only second. In fairness, equality on the list I believe enough in that I wouldn’t go around slapping people disproportionally; no I’d be equal; they’d have an equal comeuppance.’ Nanette laughed with a snort as Katherine Hepburn did.” The flowers beneath them were shifting in the light breeze. “Actually, Nanette was measured and fair.” “Oh, really?,” the boy looked on grinning.
“Some weeks later, we were progressing healthily in our lives. Marnie found an ad in the local paper wherein two graduate students were asking for a third housemate to help cover their $1,400 monthly apartment rent. It had three bedrooms and everything. She had been saving money from her now stable work as that health aide. Her long-term goal was to join up with them. Of course, ultimately, she’d want to go school in hospitality somewhere, and then pursue her dream up North in Wine Country. Trevor wanted to see about getting on some sort of insurance so he’d be taken more seriously in the event of another one of his seizures. Also, he wanted to see about getting medicated preventatively. In the meantime, of course, he had his larger dream about the house which kept him going. Also, quite honestly, the macho man gave his full support to him and was looking for ways to protect him in the interim. ‘I don’t know if I will catch your fall, but need be, I’ll try.’ ‘Your track record’s very good,’ Nanette said teasingly. Gordon was down to two math classes Geometry and Algebra 2 (Nanette had helped him through the first Algebra). Nanette would definitely need to help him again, especially now that classes were higher level, but she was more than happy to.”
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“Preparing dinner one night showed how much Marnie was dedicated to her work. ‘How are you?’ ‘You know, Farther, I’ve had a long day: I made my employer’s bed as usual, water both her front and back yards, I had to cut her hair, run her laundry, fold her laundry, buy the groceries, cook her dinner, then finally the other aide was up.’ ‘I’ll understand, if you’d like me to prepare our meal on my own.’ ‘That’s crazy talk. I can’t expect to be a very good caterer if I got pooped out so easily.’ She might’ve had a point, but this again was grueling work. ‘I know, but,’ I began. ‘No if, ands, or buts about it, Farther.’ ‘Just a thought,’ I conceded. ‘There’s still some time before I can afford the rent and after that I need formal training, so that’s more money.’ I stirred our pot on the open flame. ‘How’s that chili?’ Marnie took the lead and I gathered cheese and whole black olives and cilantro from the garden the children had done as part of their ongoing Sunday School project. There weren’t any tomatoes and she wouldn’t let me use marinara sauce, ‘We’re saving that for pasta some time. Also that’s a silly idea, you had.’ ‘Yeah, I briefly wasn’t thinking straight.’ ‘Now, if we had tomato puree?’ She used a fat wooden spoon, that she had bought herself, with half a clue at least. The macho man was talking with Gordon, while Nanette kept an eye out for Trevor. ‘I hope he’s okay, he always shows up.’ ‘I can’t say for certain all is fine. But if he’s in trouble, I suspect there’ll be good Samaritans to watch out for him.’ He had clearly come a long way since his days of guarded optimism. ‘That’s good to hear.’ ‘I wouldn’t hold my breath,’ Nanette said low from the door.”
“What happened to the Trevor?” The boy looked at Constance’s face. “Oh no, another seizure.” “It had to be,” she sighed, “And he was in a crosswalk and nearly got himself killed.” “Luckily, there were responsible drivers and other fine people to have his back.” “Awesome.”
“From that point on, we thought it best to rent everyone a phone so we wouldn’t have to worry. We got them on a basic family plan, that was good enough for our purposes. You bet, the phones came in handy. Nanette needed them so she could coordinate with Gordon and they could arrange more sessions for tutoring. I needed it in case I had to pick up my friend, depending on if her days at work were ‘longer.’ The macho man could now check in on his good friend, Trevor, any hour of the day if necessary.”
“A month later, Nanette and Gordon done quite a bit of tutoring. The math was second nature to Nanette and yet all new to Gordon. However, her being so patient with him meant they made quite a bit of progress. Yes, Gordon got through his Algebra 2 and Geometry. Nanette was always there for him and when they finished those classes, she helped him prepare for the GED test.” “So, he could’ve just tested out? Shouldn’t he have done that?” “Gordon was bright, but understand it was not so easy to just study for the test without the context (notes and things alike). Plus, Nanette wouldn’t have been able to tutor him without first being refreshed on things.”
“She told me the specifics of just one time towards the end when they tutored. Gordon was good on much of it, but somehow he couldn’t wrap his head around more complicated inequality problems. Nanette showed him some examples on the whiteboard in the Children’s Meeting Room, ‘Here we have,’ she wrote out something, ‘(1/9)x-27<0, what do we do?’ Divide by 9 to both sides.’ She wrote that out in red out from the original black. ‘She did the math, if we do that we only make the problem harder.’ ‘Okay, scratch that reverse that.’ ‘Yes, if we multiply by 9 then we have x-243<0,’ Nanette wrote that in green. ‘Add 243.’ ‘You got it…so positive x<243,’ she circled the answer in green. ’How about x≥7-19, y=(x/4).’ After one or two attempts and with proper encouragement, he solved it correctly. ‘Good, Gordon. Let me just erase the board here,’ Nanette took a cloth and wiped the previous problems clean, ’Now for a word problem: Yolanda has five more strawberries than her brother and six less than her mother. How
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many could she have, if the mother has 3 times the amount that her brother has?’ ‘Seems tough.’ ‘So y for Yolanda and b represents her brother and m means her mother. Then we have b<y<m, b=y-5, m=y+6, m=3b. You following me?’ ‘Yeah I think. My guess is 10 and a half.’ ’Well see: y-5<y<y+6, m=3(y-5) => m=3y-15 => 3y-15=y+6 => 2y=21 => y=10.5, let’s check our work => 10.5-5<10.5<10.5+6 => 5.5<10.5<16.5. Yep that works.’ ‘I knew it.’ ‘Oh yeah and the Pope’s Protestant.’ She snorted her kind of laugh. ‘Just remember to show your work, Stephen Hawking.’ ‘I will and thanks for the help, however sarcastic.’ Nanette and Gordon looked at the problem mesmerized.” “That’s a lot of strawberries.” “That’s what they thought.”
“About a week later, the macho man came in all excited because he found a football helmet that his best friend could use so he wasn’t as likely to hurt himself in the event of another seizure. It was by no means a new helmet (well used, in fact), but we all figured it could do the trick. ‘I hope this will help,’ the macho man gently offered the helmet to the gentleman.’ ‘Come here,’ they hugged: Trevor and…Curtis, that was his name. The love and respect they had for one another was infectious. That was true caring.”
“In the wake of Gordon passing the GED, everyone was excited for him. That meant he could finally go to trade school to become a welder. Nanette talked him into shooting for stability and be a union welder as a first job. Marnie finally had enough to join the grad students in their apartment. While everyone was still together, as one last hurrah, we decided to do a group project; something exciting like a time capsule. It was settled then, we’d make a time capsule with them. It was the time to do it because most of them were moving on. Nanette supplied, from her house, a small metal trunk. Now, it was just a matter of what we’d put in it. We had them each choose an item and we did as well.” The boy was intrigued. He didn’t know where the story was heading. He was very eager for more. “All the homeless told us they could spare one item each. Thus they didn’t have to search around for something from the Meeting house. Perhaps, if they had not been championed and had their successes, then this would be another story and they would’ve chosen something generic: a hand puppet from the children’s room, or something from the craft drawers. Instead, we had Marnie’s wooden mixing spoon, his patient wristbands from the Trevor and (now that Trevor had real insurance and proper medication) the helmet from Curtis. More was still to come.”
“By this time, almost everyone had contributed an item except Nanette, Gordon, and I. I pondered what would fit best for a time capsule. Thinking about bringing something from my house, Nanette liked that idea. She too would end up bringing something from her home. Nanette and I stayed the night with the homeless. In the morning, we put our nametags in the communal wall holder in the foyer. Watching each of them bring in their bins to the piano room, we saw them out right afterwards. Gordon had taken his time in the foyer. When he finally left, we moved the time capsule in the piano room then left as well.
Later that night, we came back to facilitate the homeless’ sleeping arrangements. Also, we added to the time capsule: Nanette put in a leather satchel to symbolize their former lives, I put in a glass plate to symbolize the food we shared. We asked Gordon what item he might like to put in. He told us he was unsure. There were quite a few options for him to choose from. No rush, though; we could take our time and bury the capsule a ways away.”
“What did he finally decide on?” “I’m getting there. Wait and see. Eventually, he did figure out what he was putting in the capsule. He didn’t show us, though. He said it was better to be a secret but that it meant a lot to him. We respected his wishes; we didn’t peek. Besides, he told us it was way at the bottom so we’d have to dig completely through anyhow. Neither of us wanted to do that extra work unnecessarily.
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That night we buried it. We had our flashlights illuminating the chalky dirt, right here actually,” she said pointing to under the bench. “This, of course, was before the children restored the garden with fertilized soil and planted these lantanas. The trunk had been locked, it was buried several feet below. Luckily, Nanette had a magnet on the key and stored it beneath the drinking fountain outside the projector room. In, how many years has this been since?” “2008, so fourteen,” the bright boy said. “We opened it in a decade so that was in 2018.”
“But what did he decide on? The homeless man—Gordon, I mean.” “Let’s just say for now it was something thoughtful. He felt he owed us a great debt if that gives you any hints.” “No, I don’t know at all.” They sat there in a pleasant silence. Watching the lantana petals blow off their stems and onto the soil, it was a wondrous thing. The petals were like rainbow sprinkles on chocolate frosting. There was the buzz of the bees as they were pollinating the flowers beneath their feet. “We call this the welcoming bench for a distinct reason. No clue still?” “No, but I like this place. A nice place for a story to be told. Please continue.” “Oh, I will. That next week, Nanette and I were in Meeting for Worship. We sat next to a group of new attenders. During introductions, they rose and gave us their names. It was three college freshmen. To her surprise, they passed the microphone to Nanette after they gave their introductions. She handed it back to the holder, looking quite awkward at rejecting the unneeded chance to share her name. Neither her nor I knew why they decided to hand her the microphone. It was quite weird, we felt.”
“Earlier that day, she and I had been teaching children’s meeting. We brought in the special guest—Gordon. By then, he was the only one who hadn’t graduated from our program. Our friend, Marnie, was already gone living with her housemates. We’d lose track of her over the years, we knew she’d be fine though, having ambition and grit. Trevor and Curtis were able to afford rent on his dream house with the Japanese maple. They’d eventually gain steady jobs delivering packages some counties over and still check in with us every so often). The children had made a coat stand for Gordon’s new apartment. ‘This is great,’ he said; it was in fact well-built. Now that he was with us, we shared with the children his story—his struggle. He felt honored. Nanette told the children that he was special, despite not having a home. He cried. He told us how much it meant that he was given a platform in which to share his hardships. We welcomed him in as part of the extended Quaker family.”
‘Why is he homeless?’ Nanette had broken the ice by asking the children. There were tears in his eyes. He explained briefly. She then put a hand on his back and said, ‘But he’s getting better. Lost in the past maybe, but no more. Now he has his priorities figured out. Friendship for one can speak volumes and help fill any void.’ He had smiled. She did not mean to detract from the seriousness of the issue at hand. She was attempting to shed light on it. The children gawked. Suffice it to say, this was heavy stuff for their age cohort. He was happy to share his life with them, though. ‘I can’t thank you enough for your friendship and support.’ He looked at the two of us before looking at the youthful faces.
“The children tried to share their discoveries afterwards during Meeting for Worship. No adult laughed despite their evident cuteness; this was a real issue and they recognized it as such. We sat on either side of our homeless friend. We both held his hands. He could tell the children knew of his pain even if it was in a limited capacity. It was their way of knowing and that was enough for the time being.
“Seeing as there were new paperwhites to be sold, we manned the table after Meeting for worship. We caught people’s attention. Nanette’s stare down tactics worked. One man, hard of hearing, bought two jars without even hearing Nanette’s scolding. And one of the children, an
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eight year old girl took, from her mother’s purse, as an advance on her birthday gift, money enough to buy four bulbs. Hers were: a tall one with a thin aquamarine ribbon, a short fat one (not yet in bloom) with a fat silver ribbon, another thin one rather short with a yellow bow, and a second short fat one with the same color ribbon. Nanette got almost all of the remaining ones sold. There was one jar left and we decided it’d add a nice touch as the center piece in the foyer. We were happy that the third world families would finally get to have their cattle from the money we raised, feeling like that made up for last time.”
The boy rose from the bench. “My mom will get me soon. Please just tell me what that man put in the time capsule.” “Very well, come with me to the reading room.” The two left the bench and entered a door into the foyer. Then, they entered a second door into the cramped reading room. The time capsule stood on the side shelf with its lock removed. She brought the trunk on the small center table and opened it up. “Dig.” He started removing the items. There went the the wooden spoon, the patient’s wristbands, the football helmet. The glass plate. He had now just Nanette’s satchel and whatever lay under it (provided by Gordon). Taking out the satchel, the old woman closed the trunk before he saw what laid under them. She locked the trunk. “Really?!” “I wanted see if you were paying attention. If you recall our homeless friend very much appreciated the gift of the bulb that she gave him. Not to mention, he thought of how best to repay her. Remember that thing earlier with the introductions—how they mistakenly thought Nanette was a new attendee. Why would that be?” He pounded the center table with his fist. “Is this a frickin quiz?!” “More fun that way.”
“Fine, I’ll tell you, but will take a detour. After the Meeting that day, the freshmen apologized for their wrong assumption. But, she wondered why they had it in the first place. ‘Do I look out of place or something?’ They told us because she hadn’t a nametag they assumed she was new. Did she not have a name tag? I had mine, but true she did not have hers. She checked the communal wall holder. No it was gone.” She went to the shelf beside the table and found the key. He opened the trunk and sure enough there at the bottom was Nanette’s nametag. She had meant the world to him and her nametag symbolized his most precious possession—her friendship.
“When we opened it in 2018, years following her passing, I knew then that we needed something to commemorate this. Clearly, she had made an impact on the homeless with all the help she’d given them. It showed someone cared. They needed that. And they never forgot that. We got funding to build a bench in honor of her contributions and friendship with our homeless.”
“Where did you get the money to build that bench?” She smiled and put a hand on his back. “Our friend Gordon had since become a most successful artisan welder and could afford at the very least a redwood bench for our dear deceased friend. He oversaw the building of it and made sure that it was in the perfect location. The metal plaque is actually his own work. Since then, the juniper thicket has grown in. Many overlook this bench. But for those who are patient and hear her story, they much enjoy this tribute to Nanette Looking. It’s a wondrous thing, friendship and she was a wondrous woman.”
The boy thanked the old woman for her story. When he departed from the reading room he went to find his mother. He took her to the back garden where the bench stood. They sat down on it. Their surroundings were intimate like a warm hug. They sat there in silence for a bit. Noticing the flowers beneath their feet, the mother said, “they’re beautiful flowers.” “Yes, flowers can be quite beautiful—these lantanas are my favorite.”
Soon a man whose features can’t be described except in seeming universal, joined them. “Nanette, I miss you dear old friend. Oh, hello.” “Gordon Slight?” “That’s me. Have you heard
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about Nanette?” The boy nodded. “We had had a long correspondence afterwards. She was like a mother figure to me. She was wondering if I would remarry, wanting to know what qualities I valued in someone. You know what I said to Nanette before she passed? I said, ‘Nanette, my preference is companionship.’ She said, ‘That’s such a genuine thing.’”
Special thanks to Katrina Mason for all her help. Dedicated to anyone well-meaning, who’s down on their luck. You get the right people in your lives and things very well improve.
[1] The SPICES: Simplicity, Peace, Integrity, Community, Equality, Stewardship (according to Friends Community School)
