"Hey there mister, are you all
right?"
A young man walking down a country road sees an old man sitting on a patch of grass. As he gets closer, he realizes that the old man appears to be almost exhausted. He is unshaven, unkempt and not wearing either a jacket or boots.
"Hey, what are you doing out here all alone? This is a long way from the city."
The old man lifts his hat, but barely seems to be aware of the young man and does not reply.
The young man sits down beside him and hands him a bottle of water. "Here, you need some water."
The old man reaches into his back pocket and tries to hand the young man his pocketknife.
"No thank you, sir, you don't have to pay me for water. We have a spring on the farm, so it does not cost us anything. Go ahead, drink up."
Gratefully, the old man takes a small sip of water, scarcely believing what the young man has just said to him. He nods his head, as if to say thank you.
"Here, have half of my sandwich too. You look really hungry!"
The old man unbuttons his plaid shirt and takes it off. As he tries to hand it to the young man, the young man shakes his head. Then, he offers him his hat, which the young man declines also.
"No, keep those! You need to wear those! Anyhow, you don't have to do that."
Gratefully, the old man puts his hat and shirt back on, and takes a bite out of the sandwich.
"Thank you," he says, after a moment or two. "I really needed that. You were right. I was very thirsty and hungry too."
"It looks to me like you are going to need some shoes, too."
A young man walking down a country road sees an old man sitting on a patch of grass. As he gets closer, he realizes that the old man appears to be almost exhausted. He is unshaven, unkempt and not wearing either a jacket or boots.
"Hey, what are you doing out here all alone? This is a long way from the city."
The old man lifts his hat, but barely seems to be aware of the young man and does not reply.
The young man sits down beside him and hands him a bottle of water. "Here, you need some water."
The old man reaches into his back pocket and tries to hand the young man his pocketknife.
"No thank you, sir, you don't have to pay me for water. We have a spring on the farm, so it does not cost us anything. Go ahead, drink up."
Gratefully, the old man takes a small sip of water, scarcely believing what the young man has just said to him. He nods his head, as if to say thank you.
"Here, have half of my sandwich too. You look really hungry!"
The old man unbuttons his plaid shirt and takes it off. As he tries to hand it to the young man, the young man shakes his head. Then, he offers him his hat, which the young man declines also.
"No, keep those! You need to wear those! Anyhow, you don't have to do that."
Gratefully, the old man puts his hat and shirt back on, and takes a bite out of the sandwich.
"Thank you," he says, after a moment or two. "I really needed that. You were right. I was very thirsty and hungry too."
"It looks to me like you are going to need some shoes, too."
The young man reaches into his backpack
and pulls out a pair of brand new, black runners and hands them to the old man,
who still cannot believe his good fortune.
The old man looks at the runners, totally amazed at the young man's generosity. "He is giving me his new runners?" he asks himself, staring at his blistered feet.
The young man reaches into his backpack again and this time, he pulls out a new pair of green, wool socks.
"Here, do you like wool socks? You need some new ones. You can have these, too. My mom loves to knit socks. Besides that, I have others. I am sure that she won't mind."
Reaching into his backpack for the third time, the young man pulls out a large, new, navy hoodie.
"Here, put this on too! It is too chilly for you to be out here this time of year, without a hoodie."
"I don't have any money to pay you," the old man says gratefully. "I have never owned one of these in my entire life," He is astounded.
"You are shivering! Go ahead and put it on," the young man replies, smiling at the old man. "It's yours now!"
"Thank you," says the old man. "I never accept charity though."
"Just call it a gift."
"I will find a way to repay you," he promises. "I had just about given up."
"You don't need to repay me. I have a job. By the way, I live just on the other side of that hill," the young man replies, after a moment or two of silence. "Think that you can walk that far? Those feet of yours look sore. Here, I'll help you. Let's wash some of the dust off. Then you can put on your new socks and runners. These runners look like they are just about the right size for you."
The young man proceeds to take his bottle of water, pours it over the old man's feet, waits a couple of moments, while the man's feet dry and then helps him to put on the socks and runners. "If you can't walk, I will carry you home," he tells the old man, quietly. "What is your name?" he asks gently.
"Olav," replies the old man. "Thank you, ever so much, but I think I can walk."
"I have a grandpa named Olav. My mom said that he is coming to see us," the young man says. "Is it possible?" he asks himself, silently.
At that very same moment, two teenage boys pull up on their bicycles.
"You two want some apples?" the first one hollers, as they approach.
"Hey, we can double up and the two of you can ride my bike home," the other teenager suggests.
Before anyone has time to say anything at all, a car pulls up beside them. "Want a ride?" the middle-aged female driver calls out to them. "Anyone know who owns that car back there?"
As Olav starts to speak, a huge tanker pulls up, right beside the car.
"I just put some gasoline in that car back there. Is that your car by any chance?" he asks the old man, who is now standing beside the boys. "I am so sorry. The gasoline suppliers in the city held us up for three days, so we are late on our deliveries. Otherwise we would have been here sooner."
"Hey, what is your name," the lady in the car asks the old man, looking at him more closely. "It can't be," she says to herself, staring at him with disbelief.
"Olav," he replies. "I am on my way to see my kids and grand-kids."
"You wouldn't be Olav Preston, would you?" the trucker asks, peering at him, from under his sunglasses.
"That's me! But how did you know my name?"
"That is my dad's name," says the lady in the car, immediately jumping out and running over towards him. "You're my dad! It is really you! I am so happy to see you! This is my husband Bart, and these young men are your grand-kids!" She hugs him gently and introduces the rest of the family to him.
"Thank God! You and Bart have a fine bunch of boys, Ruthie," the old man says a while later, wiping the tears from his eyes. "It sure is nice to finally meet you all. You have restored my faith in humanity."
Heading towards his daughter's home in her car, a few moments later, Ruthie says to him, "Hey dad, remember that white horse you gave Bart and I for a wedding present? He has sired a whole family. He is still alive and he is going to be happy to see you."
"I can't believe it!" says Olav. "You don't know how much I want to see him!"
"You will," his daughter promises him. "You and Bart can go pickup your car, later on this evening. First, we are all going to have supper. Oh, I am so happy to see you! You finally came to visit us after all those years."
"I was bringing the car for your boys," the old man said. "I ran into some difficulty back there and had to leave it."
The old man looks at the runners, totally amazed at the young man's generosity. "He is giving me his new runners?" he asks himself, staring at his blistered feet.
The young man reaches into his backpack again and this time, he pulls out a new pair of green, wool socks.
"Here, do you like wool socks? You need some new ones. You can have these, too. My mom loves to knit socks. Besides that, I have others. I am sure that she won't mind."
Reaching into his backpack for the third time, the young man pulls out a large, new, navy hoodie.
"Here, put this on too! It is too chilly for you to be out here this time of year, without a hoodie."
"I don't have any money to pay you," the old man says gratefully. "I have never owned one of these in my entire life," He is astounded.
"You are shivering! Go ahead and put it on," the young man replies, smiling at the old man. "It's yours now!"
"Thank you," says the old man. "I never accept charity though."
"Just call it a gift."
"I will find a way to repay you," he promises. "I had just about given up."
"You don't need to repay me. I have a job. By the way, I live just on the other side of that hill," the young man replies, after a moment or two of silence. "Think that you can walk that far? Those feet of yours look sore. Here, I'll help you. Let's wash some of the dust off. Then you can put on your new socks and runners. These runners look like they are just about the right size for you."
The young man proceeds to take his bottle of water, pours it over the old man's feet, waits a couple of moments, while the man's feet dry and then helps him to put on the socks and runners. "If you can't walk, I will carry you home," he tells the old man, quietly. "What is your name?" he asks gently.
"Olav," replies the old man. "Thank you, ever so much, but I think I can walk."
"I have a grandpa named Olav. My mom said that he is coming to see us," the young man says. "Is it possible?" he asks himself, silently.
At that very same moment, two teenage boys pull up on their bicycles.
"You two want some apples?" the first one hollers, as they approach.
"Hey, we can double up and the two of you can ride my bike home," the other teenager suggests.
Before anyone has time to say anything at all, a car pulls up beside them. "Want a ride?" the middle-aged female driver calls out to them. "Anyone know who owns that car back there?"
As Olav starts to speak, a huge tanker pulls up, right beside the car.
"I just put some gasoline in that car back there. Is that your car by any chance?" he asks the old man, who is now standing beside the boys. "I am so sorry. The gasoline suppliers in the city held us up for three days, so we are late on our deliveries. Otherwise we would have been here sooner."
"Hey, what is your name," the lady in the car asks the old man, looking at him more closely. "It can't be," she says to herself, staring at him with disbelief.
"Olav," he replies. "I am on my way to see my kids and grand-kids."
"You wouldn't be Olav Preston, would you?" the trucker asks, peering at him, from under his sunglasses.
"That's me! But how did you know my name?"
"That is my dad's name," says the lady in the car, immediately jumping out and running over towards him. "You're my dad! It is really you! I am so happy to see you! This is my husband Bart, and these young men are your grand-kids!" She hugs him gently and introduces the rest of the family to him.
"Thank God! You and Bart have a fine bunch of boys, Ruthie," the old man says a while later, wiping the tears from his eyes. "It sure is nice to finally meet you all. You have restored my faith in humanity."
Heading towards his daughter's home in her car, a few moments later, Ruthie says to him, "Hey dad, remember that white horse you gave Bart and I for a wedding present? He has sired a whole family. He is still alive and he is going to be happy to see you."
"I can't believe it!" says Olav. "You don't know how much I want to see him!"
"You will," his daughter promises him. "You and Bart can go pickup your car, later on this evening. First, we are all going to have supper. Oh, I am so happy to see you! You finally came to visit us after all those years."
"I was bringing the car for your boys," the old man said. "I ran into some difficulty back there and had to leave it."
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