CHRISTMAS GIVING
When my mom was a little girl in Chicago, she remembers that her dad always left on Christmas Eve to go downtown. She never really thought much about it, being pretty small at the time. But when she was a bit older, she asked her dad where he went on Christmas Eve.
His answer was that he went downtown to the soup kitchen and served the homeless (they were called bums and hobos back then). That's a nice gesture, thought my mom. But why on Christmas Eve? The answer had become a favorite family story.
Back in the early days of the Great Depression, my grandfather was unemployed. He rode the rails to follow where migrant work might come up, picking apples in Washington, harvesting beets in Wyoming and corn in Illinois. It turns out he was in Chicago on Christmas Eve in 1929 or 1930, pretty down in every way.
He was sitting in a diner nursing a cup of coffee when a man came in, exchanged some pleasantries with him, and then bought him dinner. Then the man left.
Grampa asked the cook, "Who was that guy?"
"Oh, don't you know him? That's Al Capone. He does this every year on Christmas Eve. See, when he was a young man and down on his luck, someone fed him a meal on Christmas Eve, and this is his way of paying it back."
And so, some years later, my grandfather still continued the tradition of the hobos. Pay it back, and help the next guy the way you were helped when you needed it. It's the code of the hobos.
This is an almost unbelievable story, but it became one of my mom's favorite remembrances of her father. After all, I might not be here had it not been for that little gesture of kindness from that infamous man.
This year on Christmas Eve, the Hallelujah Trailblazers are going to have a community dinner for those who could use a meal. Maybe this will be the year for me to continue my grandfather's great tradition and pay back what Someone had done for me. After all, I'm just a hobo who was given something for nothing way back when.
-ker