Each morning the guys round up to take an hour in the courtyard. It’s a chance to be outside, socialize, get some sun, and well\u2026get away from the building. On my first morning, Chuckles came out of his room with a zip lock bag of saltine crackers. Red hands him a couple more packs of crackers.
\nGrowing up in Tampa, my great-grandmother, Mom, used to call saltines “cookies”. It never failed, each time we went to visit Mom she would offer me a cookie, I’d get excited, and then she would hand me some saltines. I was 7- I knew the difference between a cookie and a cracker. Her heart was in the right place.
\nSo this guy comes out and he has a bag of saltine crackers. Since being in the hospital I’ve developed a palate for food. Not a fine palate. I mean I like to eat. Those that have seen me can observe that fact in that they have probably seen me eat at least twice during their visit. I was looking at the crackers, having eaten mine already, and quipped that he must love Saltines.
\n“It’s for the birds”
\nWhat?! The birds? The BIRDS? He’s going to give those crackers to the birds? They are perfectly good crackers. I can eat those! What a waste.
\nWe get outside, he goes to the corner, where a small stool sat and opened the bag, crushed each cracker and made a small pile of saltines. The birds came, not too many, just a couple, and picked at the crackers, while he sat on a chair in the courtyard and smiled.
\nHere was a man who had no control of anything in his life. Trapped in a monotone schedule, one of the few things that he knew he could control was saving his meal crackers and feeding the birds each morning. And I was trying to take that from him. I felt so ashamed.
\nEvery day comes an opportunity to think in the interest of yourself, to look for a chance to think of others.
\nI did not deserve a cookie.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Each morning the guys round up to take an hour in the courtyard. It’s a chance to be outside, socialize, get some sun, and well\u2026get away from the building. On … <\/p>\n