All She Wanted Was For His Things To Help Others

When I moved to Sheridan in 1986, he was one of the first people I met who made me feel welcome.
He was a retired Army colonel; a gentle, deeply devotional man.
He always had a cheerful, thoughtful comment. We often talked of faith.
He wore out dozens of rosaries while praying in church. When I joined in my 40s, he helped sponsor me, and he gave me a big black rosary as a welcoming gift.
I knew him for almost 20 years before he died three years ago, at age 89.
It took his wife two years to summon the courage to depart with some of his things.
She called me one evening and asked what would happen to her husband’s clothes if she donated them to the shelter. I told her it was my understanding that they would be given to people who needed them.
“As long as they help someone else,” she said. “I think he would have liked that.”
She asked me to come by and pick up the things she had made ready.
She would not let anything go that was damaged in any way. I filled up my car with boxes and armfuls of jackets, shirts, pants, shoes, hats and coats.
Some of these I recognized as his.
I took these to the Sheridan Community Shelter where I worked.
As it happened, this was the same time that the inadequate storage for donations was in serious need of organization. We were, the director decided, too full. As a result the donations in storage were trucked to the landfill in at least four huge loads.
I thought about his wife, and her hopes that his things would do someone else some good. We failed her, big time.
Thoughtful donations were shrugged off, much like many of the people who stop at the shelter for help. They, too, are discarded.
Which is easier to throw away? A jacket or a person. At this shelter, both are treated the same.