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Friends, about two years ago I wrote a blog entry about a little man who came to our door one morning.

In the last two years, I've added another 150,000+ words to my blog, so the chapter is buried. In order to find it, a person would have to click down for several minutes.

For some reason, I've recently had about a dozen requests for the entry ... Our Old Step Stool. And, of course, I send a copy to those who ask for it.

The piece is also Karen's very favorite writing of mine. That sort of amazes me; of all the writing I've done, this little 960 word blog chapter is her all-time favorite.

In fact, Karen "cries for happy" every time she reads it.

So, just for kicks and giggles, I thought I'd post it here. I pray that you enjoy it.

Easter Blessings,

Steve


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Our Old Step Stool


At seventy years of age, Karen and I are getting horribly fragile. Because of this, I bought three very sturdy aluminum step stools that have wide steps and arm gizzies.

Our new step stools are heavier and more clumsy to use, but at our age we cannot afford a broken hip. We’ve seen the “broken hip death sentence” way too many times amongst our friends and folks at our church.

Rather than recycle our old step stools, I put them out on the curb. One was a bonafide antique Cosco, so I marked it at $5.00. One of our neighbors, Clara, quickly snatched up the Cosco and insisted on buying it. We offered to give it to her, but she insisted on paying.

The second step stool, a two-step aluminum one, remained on the curb for four days.

On the step stool was a note that I scribbled on the back of a 100-yard rifle target:

$3.00
Just put the money in our mailbox.
If you cannot afford to pay, please accept this as our gift to you.
God Bless You, Steve

This morning, I was sitting at our kitchen counter, eating Quaker Oats Granola and sneaking every fifth piece to Libby the Wonderdog. I was reading the obituaries and thinking that most of the dead folks were younger than Karen and me.

Oh yeah, and my ever-deadening feet (probably peripheral neuropathy or a pinched nerve in my lower spine) were REALLY BAD this morning. I was not off to a good start on the day.

Then, somebody rang our doorbell. So, I groaned audibly, limped over to the door and opened it.

And there stood a little man, a little white man, with a neatly trimmed beard. He was maybe forty-five years of age and about five-feet tall.

The neat little gnome was wearing a yellow safety vest with the legend "Road Rescue" on it.

He asked, "Are you Steve?"

I allowed, "Yep."

He said, "I'm Jose, I'm from Chile, but now I am American and I am so happy to be free. I work two jobs; I deliver your morning paper and I help people who lock themselves out of their cars."

The little man continued, "Your little ladder would make me tall enough to reach the tall windows of our American SUVS."

Jose went on, "I do not have three dollars, but I promise to bring three dollars to you just as soon as I have it."

I told him, "Jose, my new American friend, I surely do not need the three dollars. Take the ladder, use it in your wonderful job and may God Bless You."

Jose was on the verge of tears.

I watched him as he, quite embarrassed, turned around and walked to the street. Then, he took out a little camera and proceeded to take digital photos of the little ladder and my home-crafted sign.

So, I walked down to the curb and asked Jose why he was taking photos. He said, "In my old country, we were never free ... in my NEW COUNTRY, the country that I love, I am free."

He continued, "In Chile, we lived behind bars. Here, folks often leave their garage doors open and stuff in their yards. In Chile, everything that is not behind bars is stolen quickly."

"And here, you put a little ladder out on the curb. Anybody can buy it for $3 or, if they cannot afford it, they are free to take it in friendship. And then you, Steve, wish those unseen persons that God Bless them. That is almost too much for me to imagine."

Jose continued, "I take pictures like this to send to my family in Chile. If I didn't take pictures, they would not believe. That a stranger would trust anyone and everyone and then 'God Bless' is beyond belief."

Then, Jose, the happy new American informed me, "We are Catholic and what you are doing is at the very heart of our belief. I love living in a country where we can all do things like this."

I told Jose, "Karen, my wife of 48 years and I, are Catholic and living our faith is exactly what we try to do every day."

Again, Jose was on the edge of crying.

After taking his photos and lovingly folding up his new little ladder, Jose told me that he would surely not just put the $3 in our mail box. He would walk up to the door, knock and put the money in the hand of his new American friend.

I told Jose that it was not necessary to pay me, but he muttered something about “Honor and Friendship.”

We shook hands, hugged as Catholics do, and he went on his way.

In truth, today, I am a finer American and a better Catholic than I was yesterday. This morning, I saw with my own eyes a man who loves our country with all of his heart. Jose is so happy to be here and he absolutely appreciates the difference between freedom and oppression.

Seeing Jose’s rapt amazement at our freedom truly gave me a new perspective on what really means to be an American.

Further, I no longer see the old aluminum step stool as a piece of garbage. That silly, and somehow quite wonderful, little step stool will make Jose a taller man.

And being taller will greatly help Jose in the “keys locked in the huge American SUV” part of his road rescue job. To him, the little step stool is a godsend.

I rather expect a knock on our front door in a few days. And I'll open it ... and there will be a little bearded gnome standing there with three bucks in his hand.

I’ll betcha.


May God Bless You,

by Steve

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Good read, Steve. Thanks for taking the time to post it.

Brother Steve, I remember that story well. Thanks for posting it again.

First time I read it, but it's one of those stories that need to be shared. Thank you.

Good stuff. Thanks for sharing.

I read it the first time around, and it is just as good this time as it was the last. Makes me glad, again, that you have returned to the campfire. miles

Thanks guys, I appreciate that.

Like most of you, I would vote for a wall five-miles high on our borders. Illegals are just that, illegal!

BUT, when a guy works at getting here, gets his citizenship and SO very happy to be an American ... well, it makes my heart swell with pride.

I've had a few later conversations with Jose. In one, he was talking about "home." I asked him, "Jose, you're talking about 'home,' where are you talking about?"

He looked at me like I was half-simple. And then he said, "Steve, my friend, AMERICA is my home ... and Thanks Be To God For That."

I got a PM: Did Jose pay back the three bucks? Yep, a couple of days later, he showed up on our doorstep with three brand-new dollar bills and a quart of his wife's picante sauce.

The picante blows Pace out of the water. Holy Crap, it is soooo good.

My friends, I cannot describe with words what a wonderful and heart-warming feeling it is to be in contact with this hardworking and incredibly decent man. He and Maria are total credits to America.

We bitch a lot, but there is still no finer place in this world than the United States of America. Absolutely!

Easter Blessings to All,

Steve

Great story Steve, gives one pause for perspective. Question answered......

Yep, a couple of days later. He was on our doorstep with three brand new one-dollar bills and a quart of his wife's incredible picante sauce

If you ever see "Maria's Picante Sauce" at the grocery store, BUY IT!!! I have never tasted such wonderful stuff.

Anyway, Paul, Yes, Jose paid me and just meeting his gave me more pleasure than if he'd given me three $100 bills.

Steve

Do you still see Jose now and then?

Steve--thanks for sharing your story.

He delivers our morning Oregonian paper, but that's at 0500 and I'm still sleeping.

Yes, he stops by and we visit maybe once a month. And he's still just as in love with America and our freedoms as he was the first time I met him.

By the way, he thinks Obama is the spawn of the devil ... a true-believing commie.

Smart man, that Jose

Steve

Thanks again Steve old friend! People like Jose are what makes this country great. True Americans! Shake his hand for me next time you visit.

Thank youfor sharing..... Made my day

He knows because he has seen...........

Dogzapper, very good read, thanks for sharing. I have known several persons that came to America for a better life, most are Mexican. I don't know if they are legal or illegal and I don't really care. They are good people and hard workers and don't expect something for nothing. Like Jose they love there new home and are a credit to our community. A couple of them are pretty handy a horseback too lol. Think they started roping chickens when they was crawling around in the dirt lol. Thanks again, Ed

Great writing Steve, thank you.

Great story Steve, I enjoyed it very much.

It's good to reflect every so often on how fortunate we are to live in this country.

Thanks for helping remind me of that.

Great Story Steve.

great story!