A knock of the door dragged me out of my bed where I was laying about with a miserable cold. I opened the door to a stout good old boy in his 50's. A shiny new white pick-up truck stood parked in my driveway.
"You don't know me," he said unnecessarily, "But my name is Wes, and I live up the road from you, and I'm collecting non-perishable foods to take down to the Jesus Center."
Wes looked like someone who should be out hunting or fishing or four-wheeling and drinking beer with his buddies. In my foggy-headed daze I said, "I give money to the Jesus Center every month."
"Well, that's fine, then," he said, starting to turn away.
"No, wait," I said. "Let me see what I've got."
(More below)
I pulled a couple of cans of beans and a bag of rice out of my pantry and handed them to Wes.
"Thanks-- every little bit helps!" Wes said happily. He was in a chatty mood. "Yeah, the wife went off today to do some volunteer work for Jubilee Church," he said. "And you know what, she's working on getting her drug and alcohol certificate down at the junior college. She's taking a psychology course, too. She wants to be a counselor! So I was sitting there at home by myself, and all of a sudden I thought, Well, what can I do?"
I nodded.
"So I decided I'm gonna drive up and down these roads and ask people for food. If everyone gives me one or two things then I'm just going to keep goin' until that truck bed there is saggin'!"
"I'm impressed," I said, sincerely. "You know, I'm hearing this kind of thing more and more from people around me; people looking out more for each other. And I think this is more of who we are, as a people, and as a country, you know?"
Wes glanced over at the two Obama yard signs leaning up against my garage and said, "You got that right!"
We shook hands and Wes bounded up my driveway. In his retreating back I saw an optimism, a sense that yes, times are hard, but that he could do something about it, and that we could all pull together and get through this rough patch of road.
We live in a small town in the foothills of the Sierra Nevadas in northern California, in an area that hasn't been hit as hard by the recession as many. In our practice our patients all exude this sense of collectively holding their breath and waiting, as if everyone knows the worst isn't over yet, but that things will begin to change for the better.
When a guy like Wes not only asks himself, "Well, what can I do?" but also gets in his truck and starts rounding up food for people he doesn't know but empathizes with, it brings me to the same tears I cried the night Obama was elected -- tears of pride and hope for who and what we are becoming as a people and as a country.