A Song for Sammy

Years ago when I used to jog every day, I ran into an old bum who used to get his meals from a garbage dump. I felt really sorry for him. For several months we did not acknowledge each other...I would just run my route and he would search for his treasures in the garbage hoppers. Then one day I stopped at the Italian deli that was next to his stomping grounds that he rummaged about and I bought him the biggest Italian submarine sandwich they had, along with a salad and a quart bottle of natural spring water. When I took it to him he starred at me blankly and wondered what I was up to. I told him the food was for him. He was stunned for a moment and then wiped a tear from his eye. He asked me if I would split the sandwich with him and I told him I wasn't hungry, and so while he ate I sat down on the grassy hill and watched the old man devour his sandwich. When he was finished we talked for an hour and a half. He said that he always saw me running everyday and he always wanted to say something but he was too embarrassed and thought that I would shun and avoid him for the way he lived. From that point, on the days that I would see him we would always wave to each other and he would yell, "How many today", meaning how many miles I was running, and I would say 8. or 10, or 12, or however many miles I was running. Then he would pause and he'd yell, "run an extra one for me". Every now and then before I left the house I would put a five or ten dollar bill in my sock and when I would reach the point where I would see him, I'd run by and throw a five or ten at him and keep running before he would become embarrassed. His name was Sam but I called him Sammy (he liked that) and I had many conversations with him and I enjoyed his company. He had a serene-ness to him that was quite nice.

As the seasons turned into autumn that year I noticed that about a month and a half had passed without seeing Sammy one time. I stopped in at the Italian deli and asked the people who worked there if they'd seen Sammy lately. Then the old woman who ran the place said, "No, that old man is gone. He passed away and we don't have to watch him digging through the trash anymore". She said it almost as if she was relieved. As I walked out the deli I was very distraught and the atmosphere seemed eerie...I was truly saddened by the news. On that day I took the long way home.

When I got home I took out a piece of paper and a pen and wrote the following poem for my friend Sammy.

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A SONG FOR SAMMY

He wears a torn up shirt and pants
and he smells like gasoline
he hangs around the garbage dumps
when times are really lean.

All the businessmen and lawyers
all the people in the crowd
they would all laugh at Sammy
and they all would laugh out loud

Hey there people,
won't you give old Sam a break
he really ain't a bad guy
he just made a few mistakes.

One day I stopped and talked with Sam
as he was starrin' at the sky
his crackled voice began to speak
as he wiped a tear-drop from his eye.

I'm a withered, worn-out, tired man
and I've surly paid my dues
and once I was a wealthy lad
but today don't own a pair of shoes

There's nothing much for me to give
and little I can mend
so I walk the streets and count my steps
and wonder where my day might end.

Be prepared for all your lessons boy
for in this life there's quite a few
and if there's only one thing I could say
this is what I'd say to you :

When you reach for fame and fortune
be prepared to take a fall
and you're sure to lose your precious pride
when they force your back against a wall

Everyone is rushing
everybody's on the run
and they're working hard for ulcers
when they could be lying in the sun

So take a look at me my friend
while you're still young and wild and free
and don't dare let the world do to you
all the things they've done to me.

And to this day I ponder
on the words he spoke to me
and the best that I can hope for
is that he found peace and har-mo-ny.