Jerry - The Abandoned and Forgotten

by Dudley Davis

I am constantly being asked, "Who, specifically, is JERRY?" Always wanting to tell the story in the hope that it will ultimately inspire others to reach out, I found myself repeating it over and over again. Then a thought struck me: if I could put into print "THE EXPERIENCE OF THAT DAY" and have it published, how many more of you could I move to action, how many more JERRYs might have a peaceful moment in their otherwise dismal existence, because of that action?

YES! JERRY is the homeless and downtrodden. And JERRY is a name that I have affixed in my mind to all the homeless and downtrodden who have slipped through life's cracks. And for what reason matters not. A name keeps them real and is an ever-present reminder that they are not just an ugly blemish on the landscape of some freeway offramp. JERRY gives them an identity, and brings forth the realization that they are our brothers and our sisters - kindred souls if you please - and as such, deserve our outstretched hand.

As a courier for my livelihood, I spend 10 to 12 hours daily on the roads and freeways of Southern California. And in these travels, I log about 300 miles a day average, so I come across many of these derelicts daily. "Druggies," "alkies," "crazies," as they are so often referred to; each with their own little gimmick to vie for our help. I guess I've seen just about every kind: the Vietnam vet who doesn't look old enough to have gone to Vietnam; the lady with her 1 or 2 kids playing off to the side; the man and his dog (how in the hell can he feed his dog when he can't even feed himself?). WOW! It goes on and on. The squeegee guy wanting to clean your windshield; the guy or girl that looks so freshly laundered that they just don't fit, and yes, the ever-present cardboard, "Will work for food, God bless you." You can't help but try to ignore them because they all look like scams. Then there are those that truly are legitimate; missing a leg or both, the same with the arms, the wheelchair bound, and those that are just so old you know they definitely need help. Did I just catch myself saying "legitimate?" Isn't that being judgemental when I know nothing of any of their circumstances? And if these are scams, so be it. They must be pretty desperate to choose this way of beating us out of a dollar or a free meal. And if they take that dollar and spend it on drugs or liquor, so what? If that's what it takes to ease their pain for a short while, then who am I to deny them a little comfort if I have the dollar or two to spare? The problem is, I don't have the dollar to spare and I would much rather know that they are eating. For I know that hunger will eventually take over even their desire for liquor or drugs. Then what are they to do? Well, I have found one solution through a chance encounter with one specific JERRY. Chance encounter? I really don't think so, and I feel that we need to look at this when I have finished the story.

Jerry's Story

It had been a non-eventful day up to this point as I slipped into line to get onto the 10 freeway Eastbound. I couldn't understand the holdup. It was 11:00 a.m. and I knew the Eastbound was flowing freely. Also this two-lane onramp never had hang-ups. Then I saw him. In the middle of this very long ramp just before the access to the freeway, stumbling around as if drunk or totally disoriented. It sparked a minor irritation. I wish these homeless wouldn't interrupt my day this way, after all, I'm in too much of a hurry to be getting hung up like this. As I'm creeping up the ramp it dawns on me that everyone is swerving to miss him, and even an occasional blaring horn could be heard. But no one stops to help. Are we all so insensitive, or in such a hurry, that we will take a chance of running over these derelicts rather than stop, because we think they really don't count anyway? Like an old piece of tire laying in the roadway, we just guide ourselves around it, go on our merry way and not give it a second thought. For if we do think about it, we might feel compelled to do something. But what? And we don't have time in our very busy lives anyway to be bothered by such as these. They brought it on themselves, therefore, we're not responsible. They're just "druggies," "alkies," or "crazies," and besides, they look horrible. This kind of thinking is only justification to ourselves to help ease whatever guilt might surface because we didn't do anything. But maybe you would like to reach out and don't know how, other than giving money, which you don't have enough of to make a difference anyway. Well, there is a way, and it wouldn't be damaging to your pocketbook or time. Please read on.

What was he doing here? This is not a ramp where begging for alms would be very fruitful. Mostly, it is free flowing traffic with not much chance to stop and supply the ever-present Styrofoam cup. Once you are on the ramp there is no stopping. But, he was there, and something had to be done. Why me LORD? A phrase I've used many times without really looking for an answer. Without giving it a conscious thought, I eased the truck as close as I could, next to the 10-foot retaining wall to my right, put it into park, turned on my flashers, and exited through the driver's side door. The traffic kept flowing, albeit ever so slowly. I did, to say the least, put myself in a precarious situation. But then, this didn't occur to me until much later, when I had a chance to give it some thought. There are times when a situation calls for spontaneity of action, and this was a prime example.

As I approached him, my first clear view was one of total revulsion. Enough to turn even the kindest of souls away. His hair was matted with dirt and who knows what, and in total disarray. But if you looked closely, you could see that it was once blonde. The teeth he did have were so bad they looked as if they would break if he bit into something solid. The stench was overpowering, and his long flowing trenchcoat was filthy beyond belief, with holes everywhere. His one and only warm garment, I surmised. I put my arm around his shoulder; not an easy thing to do, considering the filth and stench. But he did need a bit of prodding so as to guide him to the side of the road. I then said to him, and not in an angry tone, but one of caring, "Come on pal; we have to get off to the side of the road before we both get run over." At this point I then heard a low guttural sound that seemed to emanate from his very soul. The words were almost inaudible. Chills ran through me. I can't recall whether I heard the words with my ears or if my senses captured the meaning. "I'M HUNGRY." Like a cry for help but not expecting any. The poignant words ripped at my insides (I never want to be that hungry). Simultaneously, my eyes were drawn to his, as if magnetized. They looked deep into mine and seemed to sear my very being. I experienced anguish as I never have. His. I truly experienced the anguish and hunger of another. My heart cried out, and a paroxysm of tears filled my eyes. Then funny things started happening. The stench disappeared and I was no longer in the presence of a derelict or bum, but some poor soul who just needed love and was unbelievably hungry. My life was changed in that one brief moment. And I never want to forget it. It will be the memory of that moment which will continue to drive me. As I sit here and write this, my heart still cries out, for all the JERRYs who have to face this suffering day in and day out. Oh! Please GOD, let the reader feel in their heart what You and I are so desperately trying to convey. Guide my fingers to bring out your message.

I, who have so much more than these poor derelicts, can surely reach out to them and still not deprive myself. Why then cannot all the rest?

As we reached the side of the road I pulled out my wallet and gave him all that I had in it. A five dollar bill. If there were twenties in the wallet they would have gone into the cup also. The cup was in his hand that was hanging loosely at his side. I had to pick up his hand to put the money into the cup. He was in such bad shape that he couldn't even hold his cup out. "Here, take this and go get yourself something to eat. Be careful and stay out of the road."

Now, coming back to reality, from wherever I was, for I was totally oblivious to anything going on around me for the few minutes I was in his presence, I became aware of the dangerous traffic situation I was creating, so I departed abruptly. Once on the freeway this thought came crashing into my mind: "Why didn't I take him to a restaurant and get him something to eat? He wasn't able to make it there on his own." Then I noticed on the floor of the passenger side, my lunch for the day. It sat there staring back at me. Some grapes, a banana, a couple of oranges, and a pear. Which prompted this question: "Why didn't I give him my lunch? Or at least share it with him?" Boy! This really dredged up the guilt feelings. these questions came to me so rapidly, I wasn't even up to speed on the freeway before they hit. I slowed, pulled to the side, and came to a complete stop. Then I let it all go. The tears were uncontrollable. My thoughts were mixed to say the last. Did I give him the money because that was the least troublesome way of handling the situation and any guilt I might have, were I to do nothing at all? I beat myself up many times when this thought came back to mind. Perhaps it kept recurring so as to spur me on to do something more positive. But at that moment something more had to be done. I put the truck into gear and headed back to the same onramp. My search was in vain, he was nowhere to be found. In the months to come, there have been many detours to that same onramp, every time hoping, and yet knowing I wouldn't find him. For, by now, I realized I had experienced an angel or even JESUS, and my detours were merely ways of looking for my own confirmation. I have always believed in angels, maybe more to go along with the crowd than any other reason. But then I have never had proof before. Now after returning to that ramp many times and not finding JERRY again is enough to confirm my belief. For I know, through experience, that derelicts generally use the same corners and ramps to vie for help and he should have been there one of those times.

Several months had slipped into history, I found the memory dimming a bit, and still no great revelation had presented itself on what I should do. Why wouldn't this angel show me the way? For fear of losing the experience altogether, and until my angel came through, I put a name to him to keep him alive, like an absent friend. JERRY. Now I find that every bum, derelict, or downtrodden has become JERRY to me, and I see them all with a loving heart and a desire to reach out and help them through their misery. It has become a practice of mine since " THE ENCOUNTER," to say a silent prayer for JERRY every time I have something to eat. For now I find it difficult to eat without a momentary flashback of "THE ENCOUNTER." JESUS said He would be back. But could He come back like JERRY? If He could do all of those other things, this would be a piece of cake. Then if so, for what reason? To bring a message that will help lift the abandoned and forgotten. Well, JESUS sure knows how to put a point across. That day He enlisted my help. And besides, didn't He get up on that cross and die for me? Heck, He's not asking for me to die or anything like that. I'm sure He just wants me to watch over my brothers and sisters, which I should be doing anyway. But with eyes that are wide open now, I see a need to enlist help. It is not a task that I alone can handle. There are so many. What is the answer?

The Birth of Jerry's Ministry

One evening several of our friends stopped by on their way home from work just to chat for a while. The four of us were sitting around our family room table, engaged in small talk, when the subject of JERRY came up, as it often does nowadays, and seems to be the focal point of my life. The conversation took on a much more serious tone once JERRY was mentioned. I have become so inflamed since "THE ENCOUNTER," that the mere mention of JERRY brings an ache to my heart, and I can feel his hunger all over again. This can not be taken lightly. I can turn to the refrigerator or cupboard to ease my hunger, but where can JERRY turn? How do we resolve his hunger? A lot of things are being tried. Soup kitchens in one form or another are the most prominent, with preparation being a major undertaking to be left for an isolated few that have the time, know-how, and facilities. But what about the average person who would like to do something but cannot contend with the preparation or spoilage that is involved? I know I am not the only one who cares. Jesus has many in His army who bring forth some great food plans. But what about those who fall through the cracks, like JERRY? How are they to be reached? If there was a food kitchen around, I'm afraid he wouldn't be able to find it. It wouldn't be long before he would be entered on the deceased roll due to starvation and probably listed as JOHN DOE. And imagine all the suffering while this process was taking place within his life. What a sad epitaph. He didn't start out this way. He played and talked with other kids, maybe you and I. And as life went on, I'm sure he had dreams as you and I, and surely, he didn't plan his demise to be as a totally forgotten soul. Something went wrong along the way, and no one cared enough to try to help him fix it. Once again, as I am sitting here and writing this, tears fill my eyes and my heart cries out, for I feel his hunger as fresh as my first encounter. All of these thoughts came out during our conversation in one form or another.

THEN! SHAAZZAM! POP-TOP CANS!

My lovely and gracious wife, Barbara, whom I might add is my number one supporter, said, "Why not pop-top cans? There would be no spoilage involved, easy to access with no can opener needed, they are inexpensive, no cooking or preparation required, and there are dozens of varieties to choose from."

WOW! The revelation!

It exploded in my mind. Somehow, I already knew what to do without further discussion. I knew how to package the items, how to distribute the meals, how to get contributions, and how to expand, so as to encompass the JERRYs all over the world. An ambitious thought, I'm sure. But, if it can be done geographically in one area, it can be done everywhere. A little more discussion ensued, mainly about the type of items that were available and that would not spoil readily. The list is endless. It is so simple that we were surprised we haven't heard of it being done before. We merely gather up enough food items to make a substantial meal and put them into a plastic grocery bag to be carried in your car at all times. Only the hardest of souls would not want to carry several in their car to be handed out to JERRY as the opportunity presented itself.

The more logical places to implement such an endeavor as this would be the various community churches. The congregations would do their food drives, package it, and distribute to the members of the church to be carried in their cars. Contributions from various food manufacturers will start appearing. The more aggressive of the churches will reach out to local clubs and organizations to get them started. And so on, and so on, and so on. It's up and running in our church, and the response is overwhelmingly positive. The members are coming back with testimonies that have moved them as I have been moved. Many have said that it is actually fun reaching out and seeing the joy that one small meal can bring. They no longer feel a need to avert their gaze when they see JERRY for they now will always have something to hand out. Want to feel good about yourself? Get involved. Fulfillment in life is not in receiving but in the giving. It is not enough to live just for one's self. If you need help, please contact us about JERRY's Ministry.

Angel or Coincidence?

1. Why was he at this particular onramp when it is rarely, if ever, used for the begging of alms?
2. Why wasn't he there upon my immediate return?
3. Why wasn't he at that ramp at least once out of my many detours, when most use the same ramp daily?
4. Why was I compelled to stop, when on many other occasions I didn't?
5. Why this total reversal in my outlook toward JERRY since the encounter?
6. Why did I no longer smell the stench or see this person as a "bum" after being in his presence?
7. Why this drive now to see that something more will be done?

All coincidences? To me, that would be quite a stretch. I choose to believe he was an angel.

They that giveth unto the poor shall not lack.  ~ Proverbs 28:27