Homeless Hitting the Highways

I live in a small town in mid-west Georgia. When I say small I am talking really small, as in one traffic light. It made the front page of our eight page newspaper when they added a traffic cone to mark out the new pedestrian crossing downtown. About a week ago I had to go to the post office, and I headed out on my usual route which leads past the I-85 on and off ramps.

I could not believe what I saw. Of course we have all seen hitchhikers, sometimes with big duffel bags, occasionally a dog or a cat even, but this took me completely by surprise. It was a family. A mother, a father, and a girl who looked to be about thirteen, all sitting on a very large pile of luggage. I slowed as I crossed the overpass, looking back, trying to read the sign the girl held, and feeling very sad for their plight. They were waiting for a ride north bound. I was relieved to see that amazingly enough they had apparently been blessed with a ride, as a short time later as I came back through looking for them, they and all their luggage were gone.

They were gone but seeing them in that situation really stayed with me. I do as much charitable work as I can. I am FEMA certified in a few different areas and I was in Biloxi for a week after Katrina. I walk and talk with the less fortunate all the time. When I deliver eggs and produce to my local Salvation Army, or when I have youth groups out every summer for pool and horse activities. It is sad to know these people struggle so hard everyday, but rewarding to make them smile. I always end up wishing I could do more. When I see someone in a situation like the small family on that highway northbound ramp it really gets to me, and thank God it got to someone else enough to pick them up.

Now today I am on my way home and I can not believe it. There waiting on the southbound ramp was another family! As I said this is a very small town, if I am seeing this volume of displaced families here, what is going on else where in America? It was just getting on to dark, and my husband was waiting home for me to start dinner, but I saw the cardboard signs the boy and girl were holding up. One said Alabama in crude black letters. The other said simply PLEASE. I looked at my gas gauge as I rolled to a stop just passed the on ramp, thinking man my husband is going to be pissed off at me.When traffic allowed, I reversed along the shoulder until I could turn onto the ramp. As I looked at the hope in their faces I committed and pulled alongside them.

There were four of them. Mom and Dad, their son Trey and their daughter Jessie. In her arms was Huey, a little Toto looking dog. They were standing next to the biggest assortment of luggage and garbage bags I personally have ever seen accompany a hitch hiker. I got out and shook hands with dad, and said " It looks like you could use a hand." as I opened the back hatch of my little Scion. I told them I could go as far as exit 57 into Auburn. We looked at each other, and I offered a smile. I could tell mom and dad were feeling pretty self conscious, and they didn't talk too much as we struggled to squish and cram every last piece in. As we worked I called my husband and told him where I was and what I was doing, in between listening to him yell at me I could hear the kids quietly talking to each other. Worrying what might have to be left behind if everything didn't fit. I was almost panicked myself when I heard the Dad say he was thinking about letting them take the ride, and he would follow behind. That would not do though. I did not want them splitting up. They were a pretty quiet family, under a lot of strain no doubt, but there was a sense of in it togetherness if you know what I mean. We did manage to get everybody in, wrapped up in each other and bags of clothing, along with one very aromatic Huey.

We drove fairly quietly for almost an hour. I let them use my cell phone. After a few tries they were able to arrange for someone to meet them by the Lowe's. It was about 8:30 when we pulled in, full dark by now.We sat waiting in what felt like a companionable silence with the radio quietly playing my favorite Christian station J93, the song was If We Are The Body, as the headlights of grandma and grandpas station wagon pulled up alongside us.

As the exhausted family yet again moved the pile of belongings to the next vehicle gram and gramps thanked me sincerely for getting them there. Grandma and I hugged. Grandpa shook hands. Mom finally smiled a weary smile from the back seat of her parents car, waving to me. I could read her lips through the window. Thank You. We parted company and never even asked each others last names. I felt pretty good driving home tonight. My husband is used to my eccentricities and as I came through the door he was already scolding me heartily about the dangers of picking up strangers. I held up the cardboard signs I had carried in with me. Alabama Please . I said " Honey they were not strangers, they were a family." Help someone, it feels good.