Hobos

When they say that a train whistle in the night is one of the loneliest sounds in the world, I know what they are talking about. We lived close to the railroad tracks, and not too far from Solon's train depot. As a little boy I used to lie awake at night, and when I would hear a train whistle I would wonder where the people were going, what they had seen, and what they were going to see next.

As a result of living where we did, we would often see hobos and tramps in the weedy area between the train tracks and the highway in front of our house. The hobos had dirty, worn clothes, smudged with soot and ashes from trains. They were always men, and they always seemed to have a week's beard growth. Their hair was dark, uncombed and dirty looking. Underneath the dirt and beard you could see that their faces were tanned and weather worn from outdoor living. Yet, in those days, their eyes were clear and friendly. They had a frank and honest way of looking at you, in a straightforward manner; and not at all shifty eyed. They looked tired, but not defeated. They seemed restless, always yearning to see the next town. They were wild in a way, undomesticated but not threatening. They rarely said anything, anxious to keep their privacy.

One hot summer day Alice Marie and I were playing in the front yard. Suddenly we noticed a hobo resting in the shade of our big cherry tree. "Hey boy!" he called to me, "Would you get me a glass of water?"

I was taken by surprised and was not sure I heard him correctly. I moved a little closer to him. "Whad'ya say?"

He looked at me carefully, and then repeated his question, but not so loudly as before. "Would you please bring me a glass of water?"

"Okay,” I said. Alice Marie and I went into the house. I found my mother in the kitchen. "Mom," I said, "there’s a man outside who wants a glass of water."

My mother looked at me funny. "Where is he?" she said, going to the dinning room window and looking out.

"He's by the cherry tree, near the road." She looked worried, but I did not understand why.

"I don't think you had better," she said.

I was surprised. "Why not?" I asked. "He looks thirsty. It won't cost us anything to give him some water, will it?” Money was always a concern in my house. “I told him that I would bring him some."

She thought for a minute or two, while I waited. Finally she said, "Since you said you would get him some water, I guess you had better. Just give him the glass of water and come back inside immediately. Tell him to just leave the glass by the tree, you'll get it later."

I thought that she was acting strange, but I didn't say anything. She took out an old, beat up aluminum glass that I knew she didn't care about. She filled it with cool water. Alice and I started to leave together.

"No Alice Marie, you stay here," my mother said.

So I went down to the highway by myself, feeling worried now because my mother had been afraid of something. I gave him the glass, a little fearfully, and started to back away.

"Wait a minute," he said, "and I'll give you the glass back."

"My¼my¼ mother said you can just¼just¼ leave the glass there," I stammered.

He drained the glass in a quick gulp. "No need for that," he said in a friendly way. He smiled, calmly and confidently. He seemed to find nothing unusual in my behavior. "Here's your glass back. And thank you very much. Tell your mother I thank her."

I cautiously came back to him and took the cup. He didn't look the least bit scary to me. "What was my mother worried about?" I asked myself. I turned around and walked back to the house. I gave my mother the glass and explained, "He drank the water and gave me back the glass before I could get away. He said to tell you thank you." Then I added, a little hesitantly, “I think he was a nice man.”

My mother looked uncertain about something, struggling within herself. Almost to herself she said, "I wonder if he is hungry?" She went to the window to look again. "He's gone!"

I looked out the window. I couldn't see him either. "Would you like me to go and look for him?" I asked.

My mother hesitated for a moment. "Oh, all right. Go look." I couldn't find him. He had disappeared. We never saw this particular hobo again. But on another day, and to a different hobo sitting on the ground near the highway, I did take a plate of food. I wasn't allowed to be near him while he ate, but I came back later to pick up the old plate and fork. He had done a good job of eating everything on his plate, as I expected he would.