She was feeding cans and bottles into the mouth of the bottle return machine. Tan with the patina of someone that spent a lot of time outdoors. Not a tropical tan. A working tan.
And based on the number of bottles she was returning it looked as if she took this work seriously. It might have even been her main source of income.
I asked her if she would let me include my empty bottles in her bottle cart. I had no more than a dollar’s worth at best. But I wanted to share them with her because I believed she could use that dollar more than I could.
I said it would be a huge favor to me if she would let me do that. But I first waited for her to say it was ok. Because I didn’t want her to think I was just leaving my empty bottles for her to deal with.
She turned around and looked me in the eye and said yes. She then said she would come inside and give me the money for the bottles. But I told her she could keep the redemption value. And then she said thank you.
But she said thank you so warmly that it caught my attention. It was genuine. She said it in a way that made me feel like I had done something special. But I had not, of course. I had simply added a few empty bottles to her cart.
Her thank you stayed on my mind while I shopped. Her taking the extra moment to turn around and look me in the eye and offer that thank you seemed far more valuable to me than the few bottles I had given her.
I was surprised to see her still outside when I left the store. I saw her looking at me, watching me as I walked toward my car. But for some reason it felt like her eyes were pulling at me.
And when I looked again she was standing next to me. I didn’t have a clue what she might say.
So I said the first words. I said “thank you for redeeming my bottles for me. It was really kind of you to do that.” She smiled, and then reached her hand out. She said “this is for you” and she handed me some folded up bills.
I reminded her that the money from my bottles was for her, that she did not need to give it back to me. She said she knew that. And I stood there baffled because she had just handed me an amount of money worth far more than the value of my few bottles.
And then she said the money was from her dog.
She went on to tell me that she recognized me from the several times I had come to her homeless camp to deliver dog food.
And that when she saw me today, wearing my Pongo shirt, she knew I was the same guy that had helped her and her friends many times before.
She told me she was now in housing and no longer homeless. That she had fought her way back from the bad times. And I was glad to hear that, because one day I found the camp was gone and I never knew what happened. And it got even better when she told me her dog was doing well too.
But she said that buying good dog food was expensive and no matter how hard she tried, there were some times that she could not afford it. She didn’t say it in a way that said she wanted me to give her more dog food. She said it in a way that told me good dog food was important to her. Really important.
So during those couple of times each month when money was extra short, she said she would go to one of the food pantries that gives out dog food from The Pongo Fund. And she thanked me for having that food there for her and her dog whenever they needed it.
And then she said “because without my dog…” but her words just trailed off and the sentence was never completed. But I knew what she meant. We all know what she meant.
The money was still in my hand. I hadn’t even opened it up for the last several moments as she told me her story. My hand and I were both frozen in time as she spoke.
And I knew that no matter how much I wanted her to keep her money it was going to stay in my hand and be put to work helping others in need. Because that was exactly what she wanted.
I thanked her again and we went our separate ways. Several minutes went by before I realized that my hand was still clenched tight around those folded up bills. And I drove on with those bills still there.
My hand was getting numb but I didn’t want to open it. I wanted to hold that moment as long as I could.
It was $14. I counted it while stopped at a red light. And even though I knew it was $14 I just kept counting it. It felt like so much more.
And then I pulled over to the curb and reached into my own pocket and pulled out $14. I added my $14 to her $14. I held all of it in my hand. Now it was $28.
A couple of friends each gave $14 more. Now it was $56. One of their friends gave $14. Now it was $70.
The $14 Club wasn’t meant to be a club. It just happened. It happened because a woman wanted to pay it back while paying it forward. Maybe you’d like to do it too? To give $14?
Because how kind it would be to give $14 to honor this woman who pays her way by returning the bottles that others leave behind. She works hard. She works proud. And she loves her dog.
The best part?
It may very well be the best $14 any of us have ever given.The donation link is here: https://www.thepongofund.org/contact/donation-page/.
$14.
Just knowing that you shared your time to read this story is meaningful to me. And I thank you.
And this is why we Pongo.
Sit. Stay. Eat. Live. thepongofund.org