Right smack between the metropolis of Wilmington, NC and the
golfing Mecca that is Myrtle Beach, SC you will find the small town of
Shallotte, NC. In Shallotte is the one and only Walmart within a 25-mile
radius. Most people hate it due to size, parking and the sheer number of people there at any given time. There isn't
much choice of where to go especially if you are trying to find your lowest
prices. I find myself there every Saturday for grocery shopping, not to mention
a handful of times during the week for one reason or another. It's not a place
where I want to linger any longer than I have to.
One day, a few years back, as I began the drudgery of my weekly
shopping, I was approached by a white-haired man in cover-alls.
"Hey," he said with a grin on his face so big it revealed the few
misaligned remaining teeth in his mouth, "You know the cheapest doctor in
town?" I shook my head feeling a bit taken aback by his presence. He spoke
as if we were friends; like we knew each other. "Dr. Pepper." From here
began a whole slew of jokes from his wife, the great housekeeper who kept the
house to the cashier who wouldn't give him two tens for a five. I found myself
taking small steps back from him as he spoke, wanting to be free from this
delay. He was a nice enough guy but I was on a mission to get my weekly
shopping out of the way.
From the first day he spoke to me I became aware of him. If I
didn't see him walking the aisles in his cover-alls, then I'd hear him chiming
out to a new captive, "Who's the cheapest doctor in town?" He seemed
to be at the store every time I went. I found myself skipping the area he was
in so I wouldn't be delayed again. He never kept anyone for more than a few
minutes but a few minutes can feel like forever when you're on a mission to get
in and out as quickly as possible from a store that very few really like.
A few months later, while shopping, I was startled to hear him
speak up behind me. 'Who's the cheapest doctor in town?" Dread filled me
as I pondered how long this was going to take.
I turned and said to him, "Dr. Pepper." I thought maybe
this would deter him, remind him he'd talked to me before and send him on his
way.
"Nope! Dr. Thunder," he grinned.
"True." What else could I say. The Walmart "Great
Value" brand was indeed cheaper. So, I listened to a few more of his jokes
and finally told him I really needed to get done.
Over two years later I was still avoiding what we began calling,
"The Dr. Pepper man." I would still stumble over him a few times a
year and feel obliged to at least listen to a few of his jokes but with such
internal turmoil over the inconvenience. My least favorite became him coming up
and asking me if the son I happened to have with me that day was my Dad. My
departures from him began to boarder on rude and made me feel awful after the
fact.
Then one day I realized I hadn't seen him in a few weeks. I
wondered if he was still alive or if he'd moved away. I started wondering about
his life. Thinking about him coming to Wal-Mart; if it was his way of
socializing. Wondering what his purpose was? Was he just trying to spread some
joy? Did he have any family? Was he just filling his day outside of a solitary
existence? Of course, there were the darker thoughts... was he an alcoholic?
Was he abusive and thus abandoned by his family? He never smelled of alcohol.
He never seemed angry and I'm sure he was probably treated unkindly by quite a
few who had no time for his apparent nonsense. I found myself pondering if I
might find myself in a similar position one day. I remembered my Mother-in-law
getting into long conversations with strangers when I would take her out and
watching their tolerant faces. Would I, one day, be in the same boat? Maybe
living alone, my kids all with lives of their own and me finding my only joy
being going to Wal-Mart and striking up conversations with total strangers?
But, by the grace of God...
I decided, then and there, I would forever more go to Wal-Mart
with the attitude that I had time for this man. That I would no longer look at
him as an inconvenience but an opportunity for me to be the person I'd like to
run into if I found myself in a similar position. As a Christian, I knew it was
what I should do. As a human being, I knew it was what I had to do. So I did.
But was it enough.
A year went by with many kind, but brief, encounters with the Dr.
Pepper man. Then, a couple of weeks ago, I decided I wanted to get a picture of
him. I wanted to post it on my Facebook account with the idea of generating
random acts of kindness. A week ago, I was in a situation where I was able to
ask to have my picture with him. I could tell by the look on his face that he
was confused by this gesture yet he still jumped in and gave me a great smile. After the fact, I became
unsure just exactly what to say so I began putting off posting it.
Strangely enough, I awoke early today thinking of him; realizing I
didn't even know his name. I laid there with visual images of the article I
would write. The blog entry I would create and how I could share my thoughts
and what I had learned there. I decided that I would seek out more information
from him. I felt compelled to do that and to write this blog entry. At breakfast,
I mentioned it to my husband who became concerned that my interest might be
misconstrued and result in unwanted attention. I argued that I only wanted to
know his name and where he was from: general information. That I wouldn't go
with my original idea to treat him to a Subway sandwich to have time to talk
and would only ask for brief information, but my husband didn't budge. I had no
idea how I would ever learn more about him to be able to write anything. All I
could think about was how strongly I felt compelled to write about him.
Later this same morning I ended up at Wal-Mart. My kids had gift
cards they wanted to use. So there I was in the dreaded Wal-Mart for them to
shop. I decided I would shop too for the sales going on. They finished earlier
than I did so I told them I'd meet them at the Subway when I was done. After a
bit one of my sons came up and told me about some really funny man who was
telling them jokes in the Subway. He'd never met the Dr Pepper man before so I
showed him the picture on my phone and asked if that was him. It was, so I
asked him that if he saw him again to do me a favor and ask what his name was.
After he walked away I thought of all the other questions I'd like to ask. I
shrugged it off and finished my shopping. I figured the guy would be long gone
by the time my son returned anyway and my blog post didn't have a deadline.
After
shopping we all went out and got into the van. Once inside I told the kids
about how I was hoping to learn more about the Dr. Pepper man but would have to
wait. My son suddenly piped up and said, "I know his name." As it turns
out they not only had learned his name, Jerry, but they also found out he was 78
and had lived in North Carolina all his life and was born in Wilmington. Of
course, they questioned why he wore a mechanics uniform (the cover-alls) and if
he was homeless. New questions at every turn. Answers we may never know. But
the most important thing I learned in all of this is a lesson I learned as a
child and always seem to find new ways to relearn. Treat people the way you want
to be treated. And if that doesn't work for you then think of it this way... If
this was your father, your mother, your son, your daughter, your brother, your
sister or whatever person means the most to you in this world, how would you
want people to treat them? How would you want them to respond to them if they
walked up and said, with a smile, "Who's the cheapest doctor in town?
