Poor lose not only things,
but a place in the world
The poorest man I ever knew lived about
a mile from my home in Iowa, down a back road and just a short
hike down to the dam and the river where played for most of the
summer. His name was Charlie Smitty, and he had
lived in the shack for as long as anyone could remember. The only
thing Charlie Smitty ever sold was sinkers, made of lead and used
to hold a fishing line down into the river even when the current
threatened to pull it away. That was the only way young boys could catch
any of the carp in the river that flowed swiftly south from the
dam. The big bulky sinkers would land on a rock and hold while
the line floated with the current. Then the fish would spy the
corn-meal treat, make a hard strike and, presto, the fight was
on. I had two friends who enjoyed going out
to Charlie Smitty's place. It sat just about a block off the road
from the town dump. Charlie collected stuff such as all kinds
of lead pipes that could be melted down and made into sinkers.
Junk was piled at least 10 feet high on all sides of the shack.
People were surprised the entire mess never caught fire and burned
to the ground. The first time I went into Charlie's shack,
I was surprised by the sight. He had a table - old boards resting
on four orange crates. He had a bed - an old frame and springs
covered by blankets and quilts. On the table Charlie had one plate,
chipped on the edge. One day, a piece of bacon rested on the
plate until a scrawny cat jumped up, grabbed the meat and ran
away. You may think I'm exaggerating, but that
first look at Charlie's living quarters shocked me to the core.
I knew people who were poor. In fact, most of the people in my
neighborhood were poor by today's standards, but Charlie was poor
by another measure. I prayed for him every Sunday and sometimes
during the week. When I would put pennies in the offering plate
at Sunday school, I prayed they would buy something for Charlie. I had seen poor farmers in South Dakota,
living in dusty farm houses surrounded by broken-down machinery.
My grandfather took us on runs to collect insurance premiums from
his monthly customers. Most of them would come out on the porch
and explain to my grandfather why they couldn't pay the premium
that month. And the children would stand peering into grandpa's
car, a 1940 Hudson Hornet that must have looked like a limousine. But that wasn't close to the poverty that
afflicted Charlie Smitty. The interesting thing for a child to
observe was that no one felt sorry for Charlie. I have no idea
what he had done to the town, but there was not an ounce of sympathy
for the guy. And if I mentioned his plight to my parents they
would pat me graciously and go about their business. One day, Charlie got sick, went into the
hospital and never came out. There was a funeral for him, but
the parlor was empty. The preacher read scripture and the body
was hauled to a pauper's grave. There was no rescue even at the
end. The reality of poverty has changed since
then because in this time very few people can claim they are as
poor economically as Charlie. Our social sensitivities simply
will not allow that kind of poverty to exist. Most everyone can
find a home, and most homes have a television set. People have
clothes to wear, cars to drive, food on the table and beds for
sleeping. But the poor of this day are very much like
Charlie Smitty because their poverty extends way beyond material
things. The truth is, the poor of today don't know how to vote.
They are not sure about how to get married. They don't have a
clue about getting a child baptized. They can't negotiate a loan
with a good rate of interest. They don't know people at city hall, at
church, at school or in any of the important institutions that
rule our world. In fact, when they get in trouble they have no
clue about finding a way out. In other words, they have a spiritual poverty
that weighs them down through every minute of life. They have
very little information about how they can get lifted to a better
existence - to the good life. More and more, the church's mission
gets narrowed, to find the truly poverty stricken and give them
information.
Clark D. Morphew
Posted For May 6, 2000