Granny Got Me

In a half-hearted attempt to fulfill my new year's resolutions, I have succeeded in walking to work four times in the last two weeks. But it's only two blocks and it takes about five minutes. And it's even sadder to consider that most days, I drive.

I drive everywhere, despite that within a three-block radius of my apartment is my bank, a record store, a convenience store, a hospital, a pizza joint, Blockbuster, a hamburger place, Taco Bell, Krystal, the dry cleaners, my office, a meat-and-three, a hair salon, a gay bar that I've been to once, and a post office. Wait, and I almost forgot the liquor store.

There's no reason for me to drive anywhere.

Even though I needed my car this afternoon to go to meetings out in the burbs, I still had to walk this morning because I had neglected to notice over the past few days I had a dangerously low tire.

So today as I was walking home at lunch to get my car and put air in the tire, I noticed an older woman walking toward me.

In this part of Memphis (ok, almost any part of Memphis), you expect to get asked for money. Panhandlers, beggars, annoyances, charity opportunities, whatever you want to call them.

Sometimes I will give them whatever change I have in my pocket, just because I have this idea that this will be the act of kindness that gets me into heaven. But later I realize that I might have just given a handful of pennies to a crackwhore so she could get her fix, or 35 cents to somebody who just didn't want to do real work.

This lady didn't look the part of the crackwhore, nor did she even look like that Las Vegas granny with a gambling addiction. She was an older black lady, with a purse and a brown overcoat, a white crochet cap. I didn't see her as a panhandler, nor even as a Krystal Queen.

As I passed, she asked if I could help her buy some groceries for her and her kids. I couldn't refuse that story! I reached in my pocket and gave her about 45 cents in nickels and dimes. She thanked me and I walked on home, feeling pretty good about my charity.

I drove the car very slowly down the back streets to the convenience store. I got the tire aired up and I pulled in next door to Krystal to get a B.A. Burger for lunch.

And there was Granny, clutching a bag of Krystal's and slurping Coke from a 32-ounce cup. An old man was moving boxes out of his 70s model Buick so she could have a seat.

I had just broken my last dollar bill for change for the stupid air pump. I had just put a diet Coke on my debit card, and I was about to have one of the cheapest lunches around. And there sat Granny with her Krystal Combo that she bought with the help of my handout.

I got out of my car and I stared hard at her, debating if I should ask how she was going to feed them kids with only three Krystals. As she climbed into the car, she caught my eye and for a split-second, she looked busted. Then in another split second, she turned smug and her eyes seemed to say "gotcha!"

I've stewed ever since.