The Beggar: Never a Beggar

Fred waited at the bus stop every Tuesday morning, hoping Maria would be the bus driver. He did not have money for bus fare, but she invariably brought him groceries and things he needed to live on the street.

"I have never been a beggar,” he thought to himself. “This could have happened to anyone.”

“Hi, Fred!” said Maria, the stout, middle-aged bus driver, as she brought the city bus to a halt in front of the elderly man with a well-trimmed beard. In spite of having to ask her for help, he never looked like a beggar.

Wearing a pair of blue jeans, a suit jacket and shiny, old leather boots, he used a walking stick to stand straight. He had recently become a disabled indigent following a tragic, motor vehicle accident that cost him his home, job and the life of his wife.

Maria handed him a bag of groceries. “You were not always a street person, Fred,” said Maria, with a warm and loving smile. “I've known you a long time. You helped many hungry people, over the years.”  

Huge tears welled up in Fred’s eyes. He choked, as he tried to speak. “Ever since you were a little gaffer,” replied Fred, in a deep voice. “Thank you so much.”

“I brought you a shirt for your birthday.”

“Who told you?”

“Bus drivers know everything.”

“So true,” thought Fred. "How do I thank you?”

“You might do me a favor, Fred. If I pick you up here at ten on Saturday morning, would you take charge of the hot dog ticket stand at the bus driver’s picnic?”

Fred looked at her in amazement.

“You trust me?”

“Of course. You can meet my elderly neighbor. She has a room to rent and is looking for a reliable tenant.”

“I would not be able to pay much,” replied Fred, hanging his head in shame. “That accident cost me everything. I will never touch a drop of alcohol again.”

“You might be able to help her with her garden and yard.”

“You are my angel!”

“Bring your fiddle too!”

“I will!”