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Fwd: Last Cab Ride
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Jim Kiourtsis
Mar 16, 2020, 10:46 PM (7 hours ago)
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Begin forwarded message:
From: Gary Taylor <
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Date: March 16, 2020 at 9:43:22 PM EDT
To: linda <
ltua@aol.com>, Jonathan Vitale
<
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, Michael Lombardo
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64lumpy68@gmail.com>, ferg theibert <
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Borders <
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, Kevin Hall
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viadelhall@gmail.com>, Jack Brown <
jacksonbar3@yahoo.com>, Jim
Kiourtis <
jdk1958@gmail.com>, John Morris <
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"<
jamesjmohan@gmail.com>" <
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Subject: Fwd: Last Cab Ride
Sent from my iPad
Begin forwarded message:
From: Linda Snyder <
lbsgolf80@gmail.com>
Date: March 16, 2020 at 6:03:37 PM EDT
To: Barbara & Larry White <
barbarawhite@dc.rr.com>
Subject: Fwd: Last Cab Ride
Sent from my iPhone
Begin forwarded message:
From: "Nancy P. Sneed" <
npsneed@aol.com>
Date: March 16, 2020 at 2:34:53 PM EDT
To: linda Barry Snyder <
lbsgolf80@gmail.com>
Subject: Fwd: Last Cab Ride
Subject: Fwd: Last Cab Ride
Subject: Last Cab Ride
LAST CAB RIDE ( author unknown)
A reminder about what life is really about.
I arrived at the address and honked the horn.
After waiting a few minutes I honked again.
Since this was going to be my last ride of
my shift I thought about just driving away,
But instead I put the car in park and
walked up to the door and knocked...
'Just a minute', answered a frail,
elderly voice. I could hear something
being dragged across the floor.
After a long pause, the door opened.
A small woman in her 90's stood before me.
She was wearing a print dress
and a pillbox hat with a veil pinned on it,
like somebody out of a 1940's movie.
By her side was a small nylon suitcase.
The apartment looked as if no one had
lived in it for years.
All the furniture was covered with sheets.
There were no clocks on the walls, no
knickknacks or utensils on the counters.
In the corner was a cardboard box filled
with photos and glassware.
'Would you carry my bag out to the car?' she said.
I took the suitcase to the cab,
then returned to assist the woman.
She took my arm and we walked slowly
toward the curb.
She kept thanking me for my kindness.
'It's nothing', I told her. 'I just try to treat
my passengers
The way I would want my mother to
be treated.'
'Oh, you're such a good boy, she said.
When we got in the cab,
she gave me an address and then asked,
'Could you drive through downtown?'
'It's not the shortest way,' I answered
quickly..'Oh, I don't mind,' she said.
'I'm in no hurry.
I'm on my way to a hospice’.
I looked in the rear-view mirror.
Her eyes were glistening.
'I don't have any family left,'
she continued in a soft voice…
'The doctor says I don't have very long.'
I quietly reached over and shut off the meter.
'What route would you like me to take?' I asked.
For the next two hours, we drove through the city.
She showed me the building where she
had once worked as an elevator operator.
We drove through the neighborhood
where she and her husband had lived
When they were newlyweds.
She had me pull up in front of a furniture
warehouse that had once
Been a ballroom where she had gone
dancing as a girl.
Sometimes she'd ask me to slow in front of
a particular building or corner
And would sit staring into the darkness,
saying nothing.
As the first hint of sun was creasing the horizon,
She suddenly said, 'I'm tired. Let's go now'.
We drove in silence to the address
she had given me.
It was a low building, like a small
convalescent home,
With a driveway that passed under a portico.
Two orderlies came out to the cab as soon
as we pulled up.
They were solicitous and intent, watching
her every move.
They must have been expecting her.
I opened the trunk and took the small
suitcase to the door.
The woman was already seated in
a wheelchair.
'How much do I owe you?' She asked,
reaching into her purse.
'Nothing,' I answered.
'You have to make a living,' she said.
'There are other passengers,' I responded.
Almost without thinking, I bent and
gave her a hug.
She held onto me tightly.
'You gave an old woman a little moment
of joy,' she said. 'Thank you.'
I squeezed her hand, and then
walked into the dim morning light.
Behind me, a door shut.
It was the sound of the closing of a life...
For the rest of that day, I could hardly talk.
What if that woman had Gotten an
angry driver, or one who was
impatient to end his shift?
What if I had refused to take the run,
or had honked once, then driven away?
On a quick review, I don't think that
I have done anything more important in my life.
We're conditioned to think that our
lives revolve around great moments.
But great moments often catch us
unaware – beautifully wrapped in what
others may consider a small one
PEOPLE MAY NOT REMEMBER EXACTLY
WHAT YOU DID, OR WHAT YOU SAID,
BUT THEY WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER
HOW YOU MADE THEM FEEL...
At the bottom of this great story was a
request to forward this –
I deleted that request because if you
have read to this point,
You won't have to be asked to pass it
along, you just will...
Thank you, my friend...
“Life may not be the party we hoped for,
but while we are here we might as well dance…”
To
Jim Kiourtsis
Very cool! Thx Dr.Jim K!
