Look Closer

I got my first marriage proposal today.

Don't start booking your plane tickets to Vegas yet, though... I have no plans to tie the knot with the homeless alcoholic named Eddie who asked me. Or, more specifically, who asked me if I was married, and when I said no, drew himself up to his full height and with a grand sweep of his arm informed me that if he cleaned himself up, he might stand a chance with me.

With a smile, I told him I had enough alkies in my life already.

But if he stopped drinking, he said. Well, you never know, I answered.

Eddie seems like a nice guy. Eddie's pushing fifty, though, and he managed not to drink all day --- till four o'clock when he broke down and bought a fifth of vodka (his poison of choice). He drank that, and at six o'clock as I was leaving my building, he asked me quite nicely if I had any money to spare. I said no, with great indignation. Eddie's a tall guy, and a little intimidating. He said, that's all right, don't say you're sorry, and God bless you. Then he walked off.

And I got in my car, and felt horrible. I have a little money, and God knows I'm no stranger to excess. So I dug out a buck, swung the car around, and stopped Eddie before he could wander off toward the nearby church. I gave him the dollar, and he told me quite honestly he was going to go buy more booze. I knew that before I gave him the money, and I told him not to worry about it. That maybe tomorrow he would take one drink less. That there was still hope.

I don't have the faintest idea if there's still hope for Eddie. But maybe Eddie needed to hear that. Eddie's got a daughter in college. Eddie could be my dad. Or yours. Or he could be me. Someday I will be down on my luck, in the grips of my own private hell, and maybe someone's kindness will save me.

God speed through roc-town, little alkie.

I hope.