Heartwarming

[CAPTAINZING2000]

> >>>
> >>>> Subject: Fw: The Folded Napkin ... A
> >>>> Truckers Story
> >>>>
> >>>> This one will make you cry..
> >>>>
> >>>> (If this doesn't light your fire . your wood
> >>>> is wet!!!)
> >>>>
> >>>>
> >>>>
> >>>> I try not to be biased, but I had my
> >>>> doubts about hiring Stevie.
> >>>> His
> >>>> placement counselor assured me that
> >>>> he would be a good, reliable
> >>>> busboy.
> >>>> But I had never had a mentally
> >>>> handicapped employee and wasn't
> >>>> sure
> >>>> I
> >>>> wanted one. I wasn't sure how my
> >>>> customers would react to
> >>>> Stevie. He
> >>>> was
> >>>> short, a little dumpy with the
> >>>> smooth facial features and
> >>>> thick-tongued
> >>>> speech of Downs Syndrome. I wasn't
> >>>> worried about most of my
> >>>> trucker
> >>>> customers because truckers don't
> >>>> generally care who buses tables
> >>>> as
> >>>> long as
> >>>> the meatloaf platter is good and the
> >>>> pies are homemade. The
> >>>> four-wheeler
> >>>> drivers were the ones who concerned
> >>>> me; the mouthy college kids
> >>>> traveling
> >>>> to school; the yuppie snobs who
> >>>> secretly polish their silverware
> >>>> with their
> >>>> napkins for fear of catching some
> >>>> dreaded "truck stop germ" the
> >>>> pairs of
> >>>> white-shirted business men on
> >>>> expense accounts who think every
> >>>> truck
> >>>> stop
> >>>> waitress wants to be flirted with. I
> >>>> knew those people would be
> >>>> uncomfortable around Stevie so I
> >>>> closely watched him for the
> >>>> first
> >>>> few
> >>>> weeks.
> >>>> I shouldn't have worried. After the
> >>>> first week, Stevie had my
> >>>> staff
> >>>> wrapped
> >>>> around his stubby little finger, and
> >>>> within a month my truck
> >>>> regulars had
> >>>> adopted him as their official truck
> >>>> stop mascot.
> >>>> After that, I really didn't care
> >>>> what the rest of the customers
> >>>> thought of
> >>>> him. He was like a 21-year-old in
> >>>> blue jeans and Nikes, eager to
> >>>> laugh and
> >>>> eager to please, but fierce in his
> >>>> attention to his duties.
> >>>> Every
> >>>> salt and
> >>>> pepper shaker was exactly in its
> >>>> place, not a bread crumb or
> >>>> coffee
> >>>> spill
> >>>> was visible when Stevie got done
> >>>> with the table.
> >>>> Our only problem was persuading him
> >>>> to wait to clean a table
> >>>> until
> >>>> after
> >>>> the customers were finished. He
> >>>> would hover in the background,
> >>>> shifting his
> >>>> weight from one foot to the other,
> >>>> scanning the dining room
> >>>> until a
> >>>> table
> >>>> was empty. Then he would scurry to
> >>>> the empty table and carefully
> >>>> bus
> >>>> dishes
> >>>> and glasses onto cart and
> >>>> meticulously wipe the table up with a
> >>>> practiced
> >>>> flourish of his rag. If he thought a
> >>>> customer was watching, his
> >>>> brow
> >>>> would
> >>>> pucker with added concentration. He
> >>>> took pride in doing his job
> >>>> exactly
> >>>> right, and you had to love how hard
> >>>> he tried to please each and
> >>>> every
> >>>> person he met.
> >>>> Over time, we learned that he lived
> >>>> with his mother, a widow who
> >>>> was
> >>>> disabled after repeated surgeries
> >>>> for cancer. They lived on
> >>>> their
> >>>> Social
> >>>> Security benefits in public housing
> >>>> two miles from the truck
> >>>> stop.
> >>>> Their
> >>>> social worker, who stopped to check
> >>>> on him every so often,
> >>>> admitted
> >>>> they
> >>>> had fallen between the cracks. Money
> >>>> was tight, and what I paid
> >>>> him
> >>>> was
> >>>> probably the difference between them
> >>>> being able to live together
> >>>> and
> >>>> Stevie
> >>>> being sent to a group home. That's
> >>>> why the restaurant was a
> >>>> gloomy
> >>>> place
> >>>> that morning last August, the first
> >>>> morning in three years that
> >>>> Stevie
> >>>> missed work.
> >>>> He was at the Mayo Clinic in
> >>>> Rochester getting a new valve or
> >>>> something put
> >>>> in his heart. His social worker said
> >>>> that people with Downs
> >>>> Syndrome
> >>>> often
> >>>> have heart problems at an early age
> >>>> so this wasn't unexpected,
> >>>> and
> >>>> there
> >>>> was a good chance he would come
> >>>> through the surgery in good
> >>>> shape
> >>>> and be
> >>>> back at work in a few months.
> >>>> A ripple of excitement ran through
> >>>> the staff later that morning
> >>>> when
> >>>> word
> >>>> came that he was out of surgery, in
> >>>> recovery, and doing fine.
> >>>> Frannie, the
> >>>> head waitress, let out a war hoop
> >>>> and did a little dance in the
> >>>> aisle when
> >>>> she heard the good news. Belle
> >>>> Ringer, one of our regular
> >>>> trucker
> >>>> customers, stared at the sight of
> >>>> this 50-year-old grandmother
> >>>> of
> >>>> four
> >>>> doing a victory shimmy beside his
> >>>> table. Frannie blushed,
> >>>> smoothed
> >>>> her
> >>>> apron and shot Belle Ringer a
> >>>> withering look.
> >>>> He grinned. "OK, Frannie, what was
> >>>> that all about?" he asked.
> >>>> "We just got word that Stevie is out
> >>>> of surgery and going to be
> >>>> okay."
> >>>> "I was wondering where he was. I had
> >>>> a new joke to tell him.
> >>>> What
> >>>> was the
> >>>> surgery about?"
> >>>> Frannie quickly told Belle Ringer
> >>>> and the other two drivers
> >>>> sitting
> >>>> at his
> >>>> booth about Stevie's surgery, then
> >>>> sighed: "Yeah, I'm glad he is
> >>>> going to
> >>>> be OK," she said. "But I don't know
> >>>> how he and his Mom are going
> >>>> to
> >>>> handle
> >>>> all the bills. From what I hear,
> >>>> they're barely getting by as it
> >>>> is." Belle
> >>>> Ringer nodded thoughtfully, and
> >>>> Frannie hurried off to wait on
> >>>> the
> >>>> rest of
> >>>> her tables.
> >>>> Since I hadn't had time to round up
> >>>> a busboy to replace Stevie
> >>>> and
> >>>> really
> >>>> didn't want to replace him, the
> >>>> girls were busing their own
> >>>> tables
> >>>> that day
> >>>> until we decided what to do. After
> >>>> the morning rush, Frannie
> >>>> walked
> >>>> into my
> >>>> office. She had a couple of paper
> >>>> napkins in her hand and a
> >>>> funny
> >>>> look on
> >>>> her face.
> >>>> "What's up?" I asked.
> >>>> "I didn't get that table where Belle
> >>>> Ringer and his friends were
> >>>> sitting
> >>>> cleared off after they left, and
> >>>> Pony Pete and Tony Tipper were
> >>>> sitting
> >>>> there when I got back to clean it
> >>>> off," she said. "This was
> >>>> folded
> >>>> and
> >>>> tucked under a coffee cup." She
> >>>> handed the napkin to me, and
> >>>> three
> >>>> $20
> >>>> bills fell onto my desk when I
> >>>> opened it. On the outside, in
> >>>> big,
> >>>> bold
> >>>> letters, was printed "Something For
> >>>> Stevie. Pony Pete asked me
> >>>> what
> >>>> that
> >>>> was all about," she said, "so I told
> >>>> him about Stevie and his
> >>>> Mom
> >>>> and
> >>>> everything, and Pete looked at Tony
> >>>> and Tony looked at Pete, and
> >>>> they ended
> >>>> up giving me this." She handed me
> >>>> another paper napkin that had
> >>>> "Something
> >>>> For Stevie" scrawled on its outside.
> >>>> Two $50 bills were tucked
> >>>> within its
> >>>> folds. Frannie looked at me with
> >>>> wet, shiny eyes, shook her head
> >>>> and
> >>>> said
> >>>> simply: "truckers."
> >>>> That was three months ago. Today is
> >>>> Thanksgiving, the first day
> >>>> Stevie is
> >>>> supposed to be back to work. His
> >>>> placement worker said he's been
> >>>> counting
> >>>> the days until the doctor said he
> >>>> could work, and it didn't
> >>>> matter
> >>>> at all
> >>>> that it was a holiday. He called 10
> >>>> times in the past week,
> >>>> making
> >>>> sure we
> >>>> knew he was coming, fearful that we
> >>>> had forgotten him or that
> >>>> his
> >>>> job was
> >>>> in jeopardy. I arranged to have his
> >>>> mother bring him to work. I
> >>>> then
> >>>> met
> >>>> them in the parking lot and invited
> >>>> them both to celebrate his
> >>>> day
> >>>> back.
> >>>> Stevie was thinner and paler, but
> >>>> couldn't stop grinning as he
> >>>> pushed
> >>>> through the doors and headed for the
> >>>> back room where his apron
>
> >>>> and
> >>>> busing
> >>>> cart were waiting.
> >>>> "Hold up there, Stevie, not so
> >>>> fast," I said. I took him and his
> >>>> mother by
> >>>> their arms. "Work can wait for a
> >>>> minute. To celebrate you coming
> >>>> back,
> >>>> breakfast for you and your mother is
> >>>> on me!"
> >>>> I led them toward a large corner
> >>>> booth at the rear of the room.
> >>>> I
> >>>> could
> >>>> feel and hear the rest of the staff
> >>>> following behind as we
> >>>> marched
> >>>> through
> >>>> the dining room. Glancing over my
> >>>> shoulder, I saw booth after
> >>>> booth
> >>>> of
> >>>> grinning truckers empty and join the
> >>>> procession. We stopped in
> >>>> front
> >>>> of the
> >>>> big table. Its surface was covered
> >>>> with coffee cups, saucers and
> >>>> dinner
> >>>> plates, all sitting slightly crooked
> >>>> on dozens of folded paper
> >>>> napkins.
> >>>> "First thing you have to do, Stevie,
> >>>> is clean up this mess," I
> >>>> said.
> >>>> I
> >>>> tried to sound stern. Stevie looked
> >>>> at me, and then at his
> >>>> mother,
> >>>> then
> >>>> pulled out one of the napkins. It
> >>>> had "Something for Stevie"
> >>>> printed
> >>>> on the
> >>>> outside. As he picked it up, two $10
> >>>> bills fell onto the table.
> >>>> Stevie stared at the money, then at
> >>>> all the napkins peeking from
> >>>> beneath
> >>>> the tableware, each with his name
> >>>> printed or scrawled on it. I
> >>>> turned to
> >>>> his mother.
> >>>> "There's more than $10,000 in cash
> >>>> and checks on table, all from
> >>>> truckers
> >>>> and trucking companies that heard
> >>>> about your problems. "Happy
> >>>> Thanksgiving,"
> >>>> Well, it got real noisy about that
> >>>> time, with everybody
> >>>> hollering
> >>>> and
> >>>> shouting, and there were a few
> >>>> tears, as well. But you know
> >>>> what's
> >>>> funny?
> >>>> While everybody else was busy
> >>>> shaking hands and hugging each
> >>>> other,
> >>>> Stevie,
> >>>> with a big, big smile on his face,
> >>>> was busy clearing all the
> >>>> cups
> >>>> and
> >>>> dishes from the table. Best worker I
> >>>> ever hired.
> >>>> Plant a seed and watch it grow. At
> >>>> this point, you can bury this
> >>>> inspirational message or forward it
> >>>> fulfilling the need! If you
> >>>> shed
> >>>> a
> >>>> tear, hug yourself, because you are
> >>>> a compassionate person.
> >>>> Well.. Don't just sit there! Send
> >>>> this story on!
> >>>> Keep it going, this is a good one!

[tobstah]

omg i AM crying

lol

[retribution]

Nothing has ever moved me as deeply as this story. The world, and those in it, has such great potential. Thank you so much for sharing this heartwarming, inspirational story of the greatness of humanity.