Go Green, Save Green
an excerpt from a poem by Ed Blair

The antique clock sits on the shelf,
One taller, on the floor,
Depending on the patterns then
One Hundred years or more!
The dishes, marked by tripods, now
Show they were served with care,
Those pattern of the long ago,
How precious now and rare!
------------------------
I was sitting alone writing, crying.
Going over what was being reveled to me. I looked at the page before me, it hurt to continue. I felt as if I could I would throw up any moment. I knew I wouldn't though. That would be too easy. The page was littered with tear droplets and globs of drool and snot.

I sat back in my chair and saw a black man dressed in green. He was wondering outside the front door of the hotel lobby. I begin to clear my eyes and thinking it was some early rising guest. The man moved with really no direction or goal in mind. One way and then another he moved his skinny black body. He picked up various things from the free literature stand with no true purpose. Well that is what I believed was going on.

He stepped through the door and walked forward not uttering a word. Checks out the place and asks if I have any bags of chips he could buy. When I look at his face I can see tears pouring from his eyes. He and I became brothers of tears in that moment. I wondered if he had seen me sobbing form outside the glass doors.
I had a brown paper bag full of fresh potato chips that Natalie had so lovingly packed for me. I still had a whole greasy bag of those and my mind instantly thought of them when he asked. So I ran back to the bag without a thought in my mind. When the brown paper met my hand I saw the left-overs that had been packed along with the chips. In a tupperware container there where two pork chops and whole mess of rice with assorted green vegetables.

The black man in the green windbreaker looked as if he hadn't had a warm meal in maybe weeks. So, as I came around the corner with the greasy brown bag I ask him.

"Would you like a warm meal? Some pork chops?" I didn’t really wait for an answer as I handed him the bag of chips and turned right back around to retrieve the left overs. He filled his pockets with granola bars and bananas that I told him to help himself to. The look on his face told of confusion. I was moving fast, and without a thought in the world. I was acting entirely on instinct. I didn’t question why this man was here or why I was being so pushy to feed him.

I escorted the pork chops and myself to the hotel pantry where I could heat up the left overs. The green dressed man sat on the couch, watching me, waiting to see what I was going to do next. I separated the food out onto two different bowls and nuked his first.

The pork chop and rice sizzled as I took it to him. I directed him to the breakfast bar area where he could sit down and eat. He sat and I placed the meal in front of him. He began to lay out napkins and bananas.

"Would you like a glass of hot tea?" I more or less just blurted at him, and went on my way to get tea. As I was walking away I heard his positive answer, a quite yes. As I’m preparing his tea I put my food in the zapper. Going back with his tea, I found the man getting a little more comfortable. He began taking his green coat off and rested it on the back of the chair. He lined his plastic fork , knife, napkins, bananas, and some navy literature all in a very proper fashion.
I gave him the tea, and helped him get a glass of Oj.

I could hear the microwave screaming "Dinner Time," I returned to the table along with the black man. We really didn't talk too much besides the flat questions I asked him. He mentioned the desire to go to the library and read up on Africe. He told me he had been up here 3 months and is heading towards globe. One thing leads to the other and he was asking me for money to get a bus ticket. I told him “no problem.” I then gave him my work hours, name, and a time he could come get some money for a ticket. After I had written my info down for him he wrote his name right underneath mine and told me his name. I can’t remember his first name, but his last name was defiantly "Green".

"God bless you, thank you" He told me. Then he began to pack up his stuff. On went all of his coats, bundling up, he prepared to walk out in the cold. He left, and I was left standing confused and happy. He left a few items things here and there. The greasy bag lay plopped down on the counter filled with mints, granola bars and potato chips. After he exited I watched him walk to the street. He had a very "black" if you will, swing to his step that he didn’t have when he entered.

He abandoned a pile of papers on the table where he sat. I opened up a green pamphlet and found a poem written as a cleaver antique advertisement. I wonder if Ed Blair will ever know the meaning to brought to me.

Go Green, Save Green
an excerpt from a poem by Ed Blair

The antique clock sits on the shelf,
One taller, on the floor,
Depending on the patterns then
One Hundred years or more!
The dishes, marked by tripods, now
Show they were served with care,
Those pattern of the long ago,
How precious now and rare!
A note I had written lay in the center of my work area. It read “Help Yourself”