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09-29-2008, 06:56 PM | #1 |
Furbutts = LOVE Donating Member Moderator | The Cab Ride I'll Never Forget [Best thing I've read in a long time....] The Cab Ride I'll Never Forget Twenty years ago, I drove a cab for a living. It was a cowboy’s life, a life for someone who wanted no boss. What I didn’t realize was that it was also a ministry. Because I drove the night shift, my cab became a moving confessional. Passengers climbed in, sat behind me in total anonymity, and told me about their lives. I encountered people whose lives amazed me, ennobled me, and made me laugh and weep. But none touched me more than a woman I picked up late one August night. I was responding to a call from a small brick fourplex in a quiet part of town. I assumed I was being sent to pick up some partyers, or someone who had just had a fight with a lover, or a worker heading to an early shift at some factory for the industrial part of town. When I arrived at 2:30 a.m., the building was dark except for a single light in a ground floor window. Under these circumstances, many drivers would just honk once or twice, wait a minute, then drive away. But I had seen too many impoverished people who depended on taxis as their only means of transportation. Unless a situation smelled of danger, I always went to the door. This passenger might be someone who needs my assistance, I reasoned to myself. So I walked to the door and knocked. “Just a minute”, answered a frail, elderly voice. I could hear something being dragged across the floor. After a long pause, the door opened. A small woman in her 80’s stood before me. She was wearing a print dress and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it, like somebody out of a 1940s movie. By her side was a small nylon suitcase. The apartment looked as if no one had lived in it for years. All the furniture was covered with sheets. There were no clocks on the walls, no knickknacks or utensils on the counters. In the corner was a cardboard box filled with photos and glassware. “Would you carry my bag out to the car?” she said. I took the suitcase to the cab, then returned to assist the woman. She took my arm and we walked slowly toward the curb. She kept thanking me for my kindness. “It’s nothing”, I told her. “I just try to treat my passengers the way I would want my mother treated.” “Oh, you’re such a good boy”, she said. When we got in the cab, she gave me an address, then asked, “Could you drive through downtown?” “It’s not the shortest way,” I answered quickly. “Oh, I don’t mind,” she said. “I’m in no hurry. I’m on my way to a hospice.” I looked in the rear view mirror. Her eyes were glistening. “I don’t have any family left,” she continued. “The doctor says I don’t have very long.” I quietly reached over and shut off the meter. “What route would you like me to take?” I asked. For the next two hours, we drove through the city. She showed me the building where she had once worked as an elevator operator. We drove through the neighborhood where she and her husband had lived when they were newlyweds. She had me pull up in front of a furniture warehouse that had once been a ballroom where she had gone dancing as a girl. Sometimes she’d ask me to slow in front of a particular building or corner and would sit staring into the darkness, saying nothing. As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon, she suddenly said, “I’m tired. Let’s go now.” We drove in silence to the address she had given me. It was a low building, like a small convalescent home, with a driveway that passed under a portico. Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon as we pulled up. They were solicitous and intent, watching her every move. They must have been expecting her. I opened the trunk and took the small suitcase to the door. The woman was already seated in a wheelchair. “How much do I owe you?” she asked, reaching into her purse. “Nothing,” I said. “You have to make a living,” she answered. “There are other passengers”. Almost without thinking, I bent and gave her a hug. She held onto me tightly. “You gave an old woman a little moment of joy,” she said. “Thank you.” I squeezed her hand, then walked into the dim morning light. Behind me, a door shut. It was the sound of the closing of a life. I didn’t pick up any more passengers that shift. I drove aimlessly, lost in thought. For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk. What if that woman had gotten an angry driver, or one who was impatient to end his shift? What if I had refused to take the run, or had honked once, then driven away? On a quick review, I don’t think that I have done anything more important in my life. We’re conditioned to think that our lives revolve around great moments. But great moments often catch us unaware - beautifully wrapped in what others may consider a small one. _________________ The author's (Kent Nerbern) commentary on his own story: A website out of the U.K., zenmoments.org, has recently posted the now well-traveled story of my experience as a cab driver, when I picked up an old woman who was on her way to a hospice. It has reached number one on a number of websites as a result. I am thrilled when my ordinary life offers up an extraordinary moment that brings some solace or insight or enjoyment to others, and such has been the good fortune of that moment in the late 1980’s when I was driving the “dog shift” in Minneapolis, Minnesota. What is noteworthy about that moment, beyond it’s poignancy, is that I did not create it; I merely experienced it and let it unfold. Life gives us all such moments — I call them “Blue Moments” (See Letters to My Son for an explanation) — where a brilliant light shines through the ordinary moments in our ordinary days. They come unsolicited and unannounced, and provide us the gift of significance and, if we are lucky, the opportunity to serve. What it is important is to remember that these ARE gifts, and that we cannot receive them if we are not open to them. We need to listen closely, watch closely, and take care not to rush past or through them when they arrive. They are the fabric of our lives, and they will weave themselves with complexity and beauty if we give them time to do so.
__________________ ~ A friend told me I was delusional. I nearly fell off my unicorn. ~ °¨¨¨°ºOº°¨¨¨° Ann | Pfeiffer | Marcel Verdel Purcell | Wylie | Artie °¨¨¨°ºOº°¨¨¨° Last edited by Wylie's Mom; 09-29-2008 at 06:57 PM. |
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09-29-2008, 07:27 PM | #2 |
I ♥ my Furheathens Donating Member Join Date: Jan 2007 Location: VAN ALSTYNE
Posts: 8,226
| When I read the subject line, I was settling in for your version of Taxi Cab Confessions I love this story, very touching. Thank you for sharing.
__________________ Twalla & The Furheathens |
09-29-2008, 08:13 PM | #3 |
Tiny Dog Big Heart Donating Member Join Date: Feb 2006 Location: Texas
Posts: 6,205
| Even though I had read this story before it still made me cry. How touching and true it is. Thank you for posting it.
__________________ Little Bit |
09-29-2008, 09:44 PM | #4 |
Lovin' My LilBug! Donating Member Join Date: Oct 2007 Location: Kentucky
Posts: 2,513
| I, like Twalla, thought it was going to be from your experience. Loved this though, almost made me cry.
__________________ love my lillybug! rags and ribbons! |
09-29-2008, 10:00 PM | #5 |
Luv Love LOVE My Boys! Donating Member Join Date: Apr 2008 Location: San Luis Obispo, CA
Posts: 2,220
| Love it! Love it!! Love it!!! Makes me wonder what it's going to be like to be in my 80's driving around the buildings and so forth that have created such memories for me and what I will be thinking and feeling at that time. It's an incredible journey we are given and each year it goes by faster then the previous one....a lovely story and a great reminder to all of us. Thanks for sharing.
__________________ Derby , Jockey & Baci's Mom |
09-30-2008, 04:36 AM | #6 |
I heart Sugar Donating Member Join Date: Mar 2006 Location: Florida
Posts: 7,373
| It's too early to be sitting here bawling. Thanks for posting this- it is beautiful and it's such a great reminder of how important it is to be mindful. eta- when she said she didn't have family I expected that at the end he finds he was left millions in her will. The story is so much more poinient not ending that way.
__________________ "If you have men who will exclude any of God’s creatures from the shelter of compassion and pity, you will have men who will deal likewise with their fellow men." — St. Francis of Assisi, 1181-1226 Last edited by Nikki+2; 09-30-2008 at 04:39 AM. |
09-30-2008, 08:58 AM | #7 |
Mojo, LilyGrace & Me Donating Member Moderator Join Date: Dec 2005 Location: cuddling with my babies<3
Posts: 17,329
| I have always loved reading this one....... BUT I seriously thought you were going to tell us about a cab ride you had.....
__________________ Hi I'm Jenn Mom to..... Mojo,LilyGrace & DD Kate RIP Mojo FOREVER in our hearts! |
09-30-2008, 10:01 AM | #8 |
Donating YT Addict Join Date: Feb 2007 Location: Georgia
Posts: 6,234
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__________________ Jeanne: Mom to Betty & Juju Bean |
09-30-2008, 10:32 AM | #9 |
Senior Yorkie Talker Join Date: Aug 2008 Location: White City Canada
Posts: 212
| In this crazy busy world it is so good to be humbled. Brought back to reality and reminded what are the important things in life! Thanks for such a wonderful story. A few tears later and such a good reminder! Cheryl & Mandy
__________________ Life would not be the same without a fur ball like Mandy |
09-30-2008, 11:46 AM | #10 |
Donating YT 30K Club Member | What a great story.
__________________ Cali Pixie Roxie : RIP Nikki; RIP Maya;RIP my sweet Dixie girl 1/17/08 http://callipuppyscastle.bravehost.com/index.html |
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