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~Carl's Garden~ Carl was a quiet man He didn't talk much He would always greet you with A big smile and a firm handshake Even after living in our neighborhood For over 50 years No one could really say They knew him very well Before his retirement He took the bus to work each morning The lone sight of him walking Down the street often worried us He had a slight limp From a bullet wound received in WWII Watching him, we worried that although He had survived WWII He may not make it through our Changing uptown neighborhood With its ever-increasing random Violence, gangs, and drug activity When he saw the flyer at our local church Asking for volunteers for caring for The gardens behind the minister's residence He responded in his characteristically Un-assuming manner Without fanfare, he just signed up He was well into his 87th year When the very thing we had always feared Finally happened He was just finishing his Watering for the day when Three gang members approached him Ignoring their attempt to intimidate him He simply asked, "Would you like a drink from the hose?" The tallest and toughest-looking of the three Said, "Yeah, sure", with a malevolent little smile As Carl offered the hose to him The other two grabbed Carl's arm Throwing him down As the hose snaked crazily over the ground Dousing everything in its way Carl's assailants stole his retirement watch And his wallet, and then fled Carl tried to get himself up But he had been thrown down on his bad leg He lay there trying to gather himself As the minister came running to help him Although the minister had witnessed The attack from his window He couldn't get there fast enough to stop it "Carl, are you okay? Are you hurt?" The minister kept asking As he helped Carl to his feet Carl just passed a hand over his brow And sighed, shaking his head "Just some punk kids I hope they'll wise-up someday." His wet clothes clung to his slight frame As he bent to pick up the hose He adjusted the nozzle again and started to water Confused and a little concerned The minister asked "Carl, what are you doing?" "I've got to finish my watering It's been very dry lately" Came the calm reply Satisfying himself that Carl really was all right The minister could only marvel Carl was a man from A different time and place A few weeks later the three returned Just as before their threat was unchallenged Carl again offered them a drink from his hose This time they didn't rob him They wrenched the hose from his hand And drenched him head to foot in the icy water When they had finished their humiliation of him They sauntered off down the street Throwing catcalls and curses Falling over one another laughing at The hilarity of what they had just done Carl just watched them Then he turned toward the warmth giving sun Picked up his hose And went on with his watering The summer was quickly fading into fall Carl was doing some tilling When he was startled by the sudden approach Of someone behind him He stumbled and fell Into some evergreen branches As he struggled to regain his footing He turned to see the tall leader Of his summer tormenters reaching down for him He braced himself for the expected attack "Don't worry old man I'm not gonna hurt you this time." The young man spoke softly Still offering the tattooed And scarred hand to Carl As he helped Carl get up The man pulled a crumpled bag From his pocket and handed it to Carl "What's this?" Carl asked "It's your stuff," the man explained Even the money in your wallet." "I don't understand," Carl said "Why would you help me now?" The man shifted his feet Seeming embarrassed and ill at ease "I learned something from you", he said "I ran with that gang And hurt people like you We picked you because you were old And we knew we could do it But every time we came And did something to you Instead of yelling and fighting back You tried to give us a drink You didn't hate us for hating you You kept showing love against our hate." He stopped for a moment "I couldn't sleep after we Stole your stuff, so here it is back." He paused for another awkward moment Not knowing what more there was to say "That bag's my way of saying thanks For straightening me out, I guess." And with that, he walked off down the street Carl looked down at the sack In his hands and gingerly opened it He took out his retirement watch And put it back on his wrist Opening his wallet, he checked For his wedding photo He gazed for a moment at the young bride That still smiled back at him From all those years ago He died one cold day After Christmas that winter Many people attended his funeral In spite of the weather In particular, the minister noticed A tall young man that he didn't know Sitting quietly in a distant corner of the church The minister spoke of Carl's garden As a lesson in life In a voice made thick with unshed tears He said, "Do your best and make your garden As beautiful as you can We will never forget Carl and his garden." The following spring another flyer went up It read: "Person needed to care for Carl's garden." The flyer went unnoticed by the busy parishioners Until one day when a knock was heard At the minister's office door Opening the door, the minister saw a pair Of scarred and tattooed hands holding the flyer "I believe this is my job If you'll have me," the young man said The minister recognized him As the same young man Who had returned the stolen watch And wallet to Carl He knew that Carl's kindness Had turned this man's life around As the minister handed him The keys to the garden shed He said, "Yes, go take care of Carl's garden and honor him." The man went to work and Over the next several years He tended the flowers and vegetables Just as Carl had done In that time, he went to college got married And became a prominent member of the community But he never forgot his promise to Carl's memory And kept the garden as beautiful As he thought Carl would have kept it One day he approached the new minister And told him that he couldn't Care for the garden any longer He explained with a shy and happy smile "My wife just had a baby boy last night And she's bringing him home on Saturday." "Well, congratulations!" said the minister As he was handed the garden shed keys "That's wonderful! What's the baby's name?" "Carl," he replied *Author Unknown* Butterfly Floater script from Dynamic Drive http://www.dynamicdrive.com Visitors: