I heard some noises out front of my house, and opened the front door to see what was going on.
There he was. Old Mr. Reese. Raking my front lawn.
Not because I paid him to do it. Just because he felt like doing it.
And, here I was, with a back injury. I’m listening to a man who is older than I am, raking my lawn.
Old Mr. Reese is an elderly African American man who has been in my life for 15 years now. He’s a long term citizen of our little village of Apollo. He’s seen it all.
There’s no issues between him and myself, but there was an older woman down the street that probably gave him some trouble in the past. A very white woman. While she was dying, he went over to her once-lovely garden, and pulled her weeds for her. I watched him do it.
Good old Mr. Reese.
There’s a bit of trouble brewing in our little village. A group of college kids protested the Missouri event last week. It didn’t go well. Our Mayor did something wrong, too.
Long story, it doesn’t matter.
These racial problems don’t seem to bother Mr. Reese. He is raking my lawn.
I tried to take him some money, but he was gone before I could get out the front door.
He wouldn’t have taken it anyway.
Thank you, Mr. Reese.
God bless you, sir…