Patrick and the Homeless Woman: A Ride on a Cable Car

Fourth of July of 2007 turned out to be the most memorable of our lives, thanks to an impromptu invitation from Daddy, the kindness of a cable car conductor, and a homeless woman who reached past her storm cloud of anxiety and confusion to shed a single ray of sunshine upon my little son.

Daddy has been working like mad here in San Francisco, and we knew Independence Day would be no different. You can imagine how pleased we were when he called from work at around noon with an idea, “Why don’t you bring the kids here to the office at 8 pm? We should be able to get a view of the fireworks over the Bay.”

From a window-lined conference room in the soaring building, we kept our sunset vigil, watching cars and crowds plodding toward Fisherman’s Wharf like a red-candled procession. In the last faltering rays of sunlight, Alcatraz became a ghostly battleship, its one bright eye blinking a warning through the mist. Suddenly, twin rockets spun like sparks from a blacksmith's anvil, beginning the show and delighting the children for over an hour.

Back on the sidewalk afterward, the City that has been home to us for a month was teeming with people and shining more brightly than the fireworks. Although it was close to eleven, the night seemed young and somehow unfinished. Daddy suggested I take a few of the older children to ride home on a cable car.

The bounding enthusiasm of the girls made this idea a difficult one to thwart, and, quite honestly, I had been wanting to ride the cable for quite some time, so it was decided. Eileen was snug in a Baby Bjorn carrier on my chest and would come along, as would the four older girls. Daddy would drive the van home with Patrick and Maureen. Looking down at Patrick, who had not yet understood what this would mean for him, my heart went out to him. How could we leave the wheel loving-est member of the family out of our first cable car ride? “I’ll take him along as well,” I decided, leaving Daddy duly impressed. He scooped up Maureen for one last wave goodbye, and the rest of us hopped on board.

Sitting on the inside of the car, the girls scrambled to find the best seats and vantage points. Riding a San Francisco Cable Car is like stepping back in time, the varnished wooden seats and wainscoted walls a relic of a bygone era. Patrick huddled by my side, his beaming smile and sparkling eyes showing what a shame it would have been to leave him behind. Our family sat in a row on a long bench, the passengers on the other side of the car smiling at baby Eileen, who was taking in her new surroundings with solemn blue eyes.

The conductor came around to collect the fare, five dollars per rider. I had my thirty dollars ready and passed it to him, but he pointed to Patrick saying, “five and under are free” and attempted to return a five dollar bill. "He is five already," I told the man, expecting him to move on. Inexplicably and very kindly, he passed back twenty-five dollars saying, “I’ll just take five for all six of you.” The row of passengers opposite, locals with cable car passes, murmured, “How nice,” spontaneously applauding and raising a chorus of “Happy Fourth of July” to the children. I smiled back, marveling at the City of San Francisco, feeling as if we had wandered into some sort of urban utopia.

As the cheers died down, a graying homeless woman hobbled on, looking confusedly left and right. The girls instinctively made room for her, and she fell into the bench between Patrick and Agnes with a thud. She was already in mid-conversation before even hitting the seat, telling me immediately that she was a Vietnam Veteran. “It’s Fourth of July, and I’m a Vietnam Veteran,” she repeated, “but nobody cares. It don’t matter to them.” The row of well wishing passengers fell as silent as a radio unplugged, all eyes soberly fixed out windows and in books. “I am clean,” she continued loudly to me--or to no one in particular, “I am a Vietnam Vet’ran.” With that, Patrick, who was paying no attention to her exclamations, jumped up to get a better view. He bounded past the woman and seemed bent on reaching the outdoor cabin. “Patrick,” I called to him urgently, sit down—you could fall out!”

The woman turned in her seat to glare at me, as if I had been interrupting. “Nobody ever listens to me!” she shouted. “Nobody cares! Nobody listens!” “Oh, excuse me,” I said, weakly, “I was listening, but I was afraid my little boy would . . . .” “Nobody ever listens!” she cut me off, pulling a white hood over her head so that it almost covered her eyes and leaning forward to rock back and forth. “You are going to push me over the edge, you and all the rest of you! You don’t care! Nobody cares!” The passengers opposite kept their eyes trained out windows and in books, the natural human response when closed in with an erratic person.

Rattled by her display, Patrick cuddled up a bit closer to me, so that there was room for a person to sit between himself and the woman. A wave of passengers clambered in at a stop. “Look at them all!” she sobbed, still rocking. “ I guarantee not one of these people will be willing to sit down next to me! I’m clean, but not one of them will sit here! Not one of them will sit next to me!” With that, Patrick, who had been clinging to me, relaxed a bit, inching ever so slightly toward her. He gingerly pushed my shawl into the empty place as if trying to fill up the seat.

She noticed the shawl out of the corner of her eye and stopped rocking. “You are trying to fill up that seat, aren’t you young man?” He did not answer but looked back at me. She continued, her face and tone suddenly serene, “You don’t want me to be alone, do you?” The entire Cable Car held its breath, and a few eyes even peeped up from books. “Thank you,” she murmured,“thank you young man, for showing me some love.” He did not look away, but listened unblinking. “Young man,” she continued, her poor withered face wreathed in smiles, “you showed a woman named Roxanne some love tonight and gave her hope. You are a fine young man, and do you know why you are such a fine young man?” Speaking now for the first time, Patrick softly whispered, “Why?” “Because,” she said, “you have a good mother, a mother who teaches you not to look down on anyone.” Hearing her response, Patrick turned his head back to me, and from the depths of his innocent little heart he said, “I love you, Mom,” planting a kiss on my cheek. Several “awwwws” from the other passengers were audible, and Roxanne beamed approvingly as the cable car ground to a halt. “Thank you, young man, thank you!” she repeated, rising and stepping toward the exit. The girls called after her, “Happy Fourth of July,” as merrily as if she was packing to leave a picnic, and she replied in kind, “Happy Fourth of July!” knocking on the glass behind us for a few more waves. As the cable car rumbled on, we could see her staggering from the street to the curb, almost too impaired to make the step.

A wave of relief swept over me as she left, particularly because I had feared her following us home from our stop. The moment she exited, I was able to chat with the girls, take a few pictures, and marvel at the hills and hotels, resuming my role as the carefree tourist. Still, two quotes from the Bible began playing in my head, repeating themselves as insistently as the rhythm of Roxanne’s rocking. The first was from last Sunday’s Gospel:

“Foxes have dens and birds of the sky have nests, but the Son of Man has nowhere to rest his head.” Matthew 8:20.

The other, also from the Book of Matthew:

“’Amen, I say to you, whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me.’” Mathew 25:40.

Jesus not only did not look away from people like Roxanne. He sought them out as companions and friends, living among them and asking us to do the same.

Our trip completed, we bid farewell to the cable car operator, setting out for home still chattering about the night’s excitement. In the distance, a tall man carrying a toddler wrapped in a long pink poncho was walking toward us, the steep terrain no hindrance to his steady, quick step.

And the children sprang up the hill to meet their father.

Comments

[Maria Ashwell]

You are a very good mother! Give your wee prince a kiss from me.

[Love2learn Mom]

That is so beautiful! And thanks for the lovely tribute to my favorite city - I'll bet the fireworks were fantastic. :)

[clarice]

Wow, what an amazing, uncomfortable learning experience. Thank you for sharing, Clarice

[Jennie C.]

I'm speechless. 'Tis a lovely post.

[Theresa]

What a great story!

[Beck]

Oh, that story made me cry! Patrick sounds like a wonderful little guy.

[Christine M]

That brought tears to my eyes! How sweet.

[MelanieB]

What a sweet story, a dear little boy. Roxanne was right, he's got a good mom to teach him how to live the gospel message.

[Vicki]

Your story brought tears to my eyes. What a sweet little boy you have!

[Lynn]

I wonder if Roxanne knows how God showed His love for her by sitting her next to the Gunthers on the cable car!? She really did receive some joy from all of you, each in your own way.

Patrick seems to have such composure for one so young.
Loved this post!

[MicheleQ]

Alice - how beautiful! Happy 4th!

[Lillian]

Thank you for sharing that beautiful story. I found myself holding my breathe while reading it.

[Faith]

That is a very beautiful story, Alice. I had a rather frightening encounter with a homeless man, who I was trying to be kind to. I had a baby in a stroller and he suddenly turned angry and threw a cup of ice into my baby's face. I was so grateful he didn't have a knife or acid or something. Or that he didn't attack with his hands. A lot of homeless are mentally ill and unpredictable. I don't want to diminish your story at all, it is truly beautiful but it reminded me of my very frightening encounter.

[Therese]

Alice WOW I needed to stop reading a few times due to the tear in my eyes.You made me feel like I was right there.

[Lindsey @ enjoythejourney]

Okay! This story should have a kleenex disclaimer at the beginning! A lovely lesson. Matt. 25 came straight to my mind and I was so happy to see you saw the correlation too.

And what cool digs for the fireworks!

[patience]

Oh my, what a story to satisfy the soul!

[Kristen Laurence]

An incredibly beautiful story, Alice! What a precious boy you have. May he long remember the joy that woman felt from his act of love.

[aussieannie]

Alice I just wanted to say that I am crying! Many blessings to you and your beautiful family.

[Blair]

What a beautiful story. Thank you for sharing your amazing writing talents and precious family with us!

[Margaret Mary]

Alice, you make all of life so interesting!

[Meredith]

Wow, does it get any better than that! Bawling my eyes out here! Blessings to you and that sweet sweet boy!

[Martha Long]

Dear Alice:

You don't know me, but I have been reading your blog for a while now. Though I have longed for and prayed for children, I have no children of my own (but many nieces and nephews). I, and my four sisters, grew up in and LOVE the City where you are spending your summer. Knowing how much you and your girls love reading, after reading your cable car adventure, I was reminded of a story you would all enjoy. It is "Nora and the Cable Car" by Rita Shields. (There is also another book set in San Francisco by the same author -- "Cecilia's Locket"). Both books are lovely stories.

[Tracy]

Oh goodness, what a wonderful experience!

[KC]

What a great story, Alice!! And, what a precious boy you have. Definitely need a tissue alert!

[Alicia]

You have clearly instilled in Patrick the dignity and value of the human person! How beautiful!

[Jeannine]

What a precious, dear, sweet boy. Alice, you have such a gift with words. I am going to start keeping a box of tissues next to the computer!

[Karen E.]

Oh, Alice, I'm in tears. Yes, indeed, Patrick has a good mother ... as did you, as will your grandchildren .... :-) You are blessed and a blessing.

[Karen]

My youngest son (19) is right now traveling in California with a friend. Your story and beautiful pictures reminded me that there are wonderful, caring people all over our country. You eased my mind and heart that my boy will be meeting some wonderful people while in California.