On a Sunday in April, a few years back, on my first visit to the friendly city of Harrisonburg Virginia, I met a man named Gary. At that time in my life, I immersed myself in selfless service to others. It seemed, that was my only passion, desire and reason for existence at the time. While I was there, I met several individuals that it seemed, had been “assigned” to me by “divine appointment” of the universe. For some unknown reason, these strangers gravitated to me, sharing and trusting me with extremely personal details, and asking for advice.
I was visiting acquaintances, who were partners in the “New Community Project” (NCP), an organic, environmentally conscious community. They grew organic vegetables, raised bees, and had many other such projects, sometimes with students from the local university. There was a shower heated by manure, an aquaponic greenhouse, with the water for vegetables provided by the fish tanks below. I had opportunity to work on the bicycle powered washing machine, à la “Gilligan’s Island”.
The community delivered there organic produce to local markets via bicycle, as no one owned, or wanted a car. They would even drop off boxes of their food at trailer parks and low income housing complexes, and announced to the residents to help themselves to free food. They also had a partnership with other organizations, including one just across the street called “Our Community Place”, who welcomed everyone. Unfortunately, I soon realized that a few members of leadership at New Community Project, demonstrated ablest and exclusionary tendencies towards people with invisible disabilities, mental health challenges, and addictions.
On this particular Sunday I was going to an event at “Our Community Place” (OCP), which provided meals and activities for people living homeless. Many of the patrons had mental health challenges and/or invisible disabilities. OCP served breakfast lunch and dinner daily, had classes and other activities, as well as regular cookouts with games and live bands… cool bands. On several occasions, they even took many of the people to the breathtaking “Blackfriars Playhouse” Shakespearean theater, in historic Staunton Virginia.
As I was heading in to Our Community Place on that day, I greeted a stranger sitting on a bench outside, asking if he was going in. As I passed by, this man didn’t respond, but just as I reached the door he began to speak. He grumbled a response to my question, angrily telling me he was “not going in” because of a certain individual whom he said; “owed him an apology”. I felt compelled to go back and sit on the bench next to this man, where I discovered his name was Gary.
It became apparent to me, Gary had some type of invisible disability affecting his thinking, as he began to tell me many things about himself. He told me he was from a town approximately 40 mins. away, but didn’t know how he got to Harrisonburg, or why he was there. Gary continued, telling me that he lived in Harris Park, on the edge of the city, which was “home” to many unhoused people. I also learned, that he often volunteered in the kitchen at Our Community Place (OCP).
It was then I realized, I had previously noticed him walking from the park toward OCP, while heading for my morning coffee at a nearby truck stop. In hindsight, he was probably making the frigid morning trek to help in the kitchen at “Our Community Place”. I’m certain he also enjoyed the food and warmth inside the center, after a long night of sleeping in a public park.
Sharing many personal details, and telling me about the dispute with someone named “Melissa”, he then began to tell me about a “Goodwill” store voucher he was given. Gary seemed very excited that he was going to be able to purchase one or 2 pairs of pants, which brought my attention to the ones he was wearing. As I saw Gary’s very thin, very stained Dicky style work trousers, he began to target my heart.
I began to consider how cold he must be sleeping in Harris Park with just those thin pants, and how they were so old and stained. I could smell them as well. The spring mornings in the Shenandoah Valley were very cold, even in the comfort of where I slept in my vehicle, behind the NCP “residence” house, or at a truck stop. Oh, I almost forgot, I lived in my car at the time; The car that people like Gary made me realize, just how fortunate I was to have. I was thankful for being able to lock my car doors, while I slept at a location where I felt safe. I was also thankful to have the meager disability income that was coming in at that time. I was not sleeping in Harris Park like Gary, and so many others, nor was I hungry.
Gary was extremely thankful for those dirty pants, and the used ones he was going to get with his voucher. He was as excited as a child on their birthday, about a used garment from Goodwill. His thankfulness struck me hard. At the time, I was still involved in Christian belief, and studying Scripture. At that moment, the verses from Matthew 25 came to my mind; the part that many “Christians” ignore. “I was hungry and you gave me to eat. I was thirsty and you gave me to drink. I was naked and you clothed me. I was a stranger and you invited me in”. I’ve done several of those before, but I never had opportunity to “clothe” anyone, and I asked Gary what size pants he wore.
As I worked on the bicycle powered washing machine after the OCP event, I couldn’t stop thinking about Gary, all day. That night, as I sat in my car writing during a raging thunderstorm of “biblical proportions”, I came to the realization, that the following day was officially “Gary Day”. I had no idea what it was, or why I felt this, except that Gary needed some warm pants, and needed someone to care. I received about $700 a month from Social Security, and I had a car to sleep in. I thought… I can hook Gary up with some new jeans.
The next day was a Monday, and “Gary Day” was officially on. Myself, and the rest of the people from the New Community Project, made the usual Monday walk across the street to have lunch at Our Community Place. Aside from interactions for “good deeds”, the organization was not religious or run by a church, and there was no prayer before each meal. Instead, everyone joined hands in a circle, and each told the others, what they were thankful for that day. Afterward, the director of OCP, announced that Gary had a health issue and could not do the dishes after lunch, so they were looking for volunteers.
Of course, I sprang up, and my hand shot into the air, enthusiastically proclaiming, “Today is Gary day, I got this!”. Obviously people looked at me funny, but I’m quite used to that. I had no idea what his health issue was, but I thought that may be why, he was impossible to get out of my mind the day before. Some people wondered why I was so excited to do dishes, as well as what “Gary Day” was.
Others seemed surprised when I mentioned how thankful Gary was about the pants, and in general. Those who’d known Gary a while responded, saying, “Gary, thankful?!” I think this seeming consensus about “grumbley Gary” was knowledge not meant for me. I was “assigned” to help Gary, and and not be influenced by the negative opinions of others, true or not.
After lunch, I went in search of black jeans for Gary, and pulling into the parking lot, I noticed a custom license plate reading, “Beat Cancer”. A woman, who seemed to be in her 70s, was struggling to load groceries in the vehicle. I offered my help, and foolishly congratulated her on beating cancer. Her countenance dropped immediately as she told me, “It wasn’t me, it was my husband, but he lost the battle six months ago”. I choked back my tears, as I apologized.
She talked a little more about it, and I just listened, as she shared how difficult her life has been without him. I asked if there’s anything I was able to do that could help her. She then said, “I need someone to mow my lawn”. I was unable, but told her I could find someone, and was able to get a person to mow this woman’s lawn weekly. It just seemed this day was flooded with opportunities to help and comfort others, even with my meager means and situation. All I had to do was be paying attention, and be willing.
As I walked toward the pants in the men’s section, I saw a regal purple dress shirt that seemed to be Gary’s size. The shirt was on clearance for $7 and would look perfect with the black jeans I had in mind for Gary. I grabbed the shirt and went for the pants, where I found only one pair in his size on the shelf, that just happened to be black jeans. The exact amount I had planned to spend, covered both items, and Gary had a brand new outfit, with warmer pants. I felt once I made the hand-off to him, “Gary Day” was complete, but I soon discovered, the most interesting part of this unofficial holiday, was yet to come.
As I drove back to the New Community Project, I passed by OCP which was closed, and did not allow anyone on the grounds when it was. Coincidentally, Gary was sitting on the same bench where I had met him the day before. Excitedly pulling my car into the parking lot, I grabbed the clothes, and went to sit down with Gary.
Trying to conceal the pants momentarily, I asked Gary how he was doing, and joked that I had his back, in regard to doing the dishes at lunch. It was then I realized why Gary was on my heart so strongly the day before. He seemed a little down and he then revealed that his dispute with the person “owing” him an apology, had taken a turn. Gary turned his arm over, peeled back bandages, and showed me that he had been stabbed by that person during breakfast. Though the wounds were not extremely serious, it’s still not very pleasant getting stabbed or slashed, to say the least.
I then gave Gary his new threads, and he proceeded to give me crap for buying it for him. Just the same, he was very thankful and suddenly happy. I think my little gesture, may have been just what he needed after the day he had. I had no idea the day before, why I was so focused on “Gary Day”. I didn’t worry about how I would eat at the end of the month, or if I’d have enough gas to get to my next destination. I was just willing and took action, but somehow, I knew it would all work out. If it didn’t, no matter, Gary needed it much more than I did, at the time.
Then Gary asked me if I would “autograph” a book I had given him. I felt very awkward by his request, and told him “Dude, I’m nobody. I live in my car”. He was very insistent, so I honored his request, and wrote a message on the inside cover of the book. There was absolutely no doubt why Gary had been on my heart, and the whole thing was quite surreal after finding out about his injury.
Like so many, more than pants or a shirt, Gary needed someone to care… anyone at all. He been forgotten, and cast off by many in society. How could I not help this man, knowing how that can feel. I was given an opportunity to serve, and I’m glad that I did not ignore the call, as so many do. Sure, I was homeless and lived in a car, but Gary slept on the ground covered in frost, I had no choice but to help, even out of the depths of my own need. It was also from this moment forward that he affectionately became known as “Stabbed Up Gary” to me.
There were several people that seemed to be drawn to, and confide in me on this first visit to Harrisonburg. In the short time I was there, I spent a lot of time listening to, and helping them, how ever I could. I later, often volunteered at NCP and OCP when passing through. In one case, it seems a life may have been saved just by me being there, willing and available to listen and do what I could to help. I found, I was able to do more than I initially thought, but that’s another of the stories from exile about the people in need, that seemed to be placed in front of me.
How could I ignore this assignment. Yeah, Gary was a stranger, and to some, his behavior and demeanor might put off, or scare off a lot of people. Gary just needed anyone to give a shite, he needed to know he was just as much of a person as the rest of the world. I am glad I did not ignore the beckoning that prompted my service to “Stabbed Up Gary” and the others.
It was nice to see him light-hearted and laughing after that. When I saw Gary on a later visit to Harrisonburg, he was like a different person, beaming that he “had a home, a recliner and a TV.” When he told me this, I had none of those things, but that didn’t matter. I was elated for Gary. He seemed so much healthier mentally, and just plain “chill”. Again, he just needed someone to care.
Then he thanked me for helping him finally “get a home”. He told me that after I left, the NCP took the initiative to help him, and 30 others find housing in a brand-new public housing unit. I told him, I had nothing to do with that, and wasn’t even in Harrisonburg at the time. Gary responded saying, “Everything you did for us while you lived in your car, embarrassed a lot of people. You lit a fire under their ass”.
I really don’t feel I did much of anything, but sense the need, listen, and stand with him and the others. Yeah, so I bought him some clothes. Then I thought, maybe the selfless actions of a disabled person, living in his car on $700 a month, played a small catalystic role, inspiring others with the means, to actually help all of these people. Then I thought, “Nah, wasn’t me”.
In Gary’s mind, he was given the world. Gary got a new outfit, a book signed by a nobody, a home with a recliner and TV, as well as some dignity and inclusion. Gary seemed to know in his soul, that a lot of people cared about him. That’s exactly what I had hoped for. With all that, in my willingness to listen and serve this stranger, I got so much more than Gary, or anyone else that I gave my time and effort to in the “friendly city”.
Then, I drove off and continued to live in my car. My hope was that one day, someone would help me find a home. I hoped that day would come soon, but even if that never happened, I would not change a thing about the path I was led down. I would’ve missed out on so much joy, experience, and edification. More importantly, I would have missed sharing a moment in the lives of those important people, and never had the cosmic connection, or the honor of knowing “Stabbed up Gary”.
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