I heard a story today about a man in Los Angeles that was buried this week. His name was Javier.
He led for the most part a non-descript life like many do. He had two loves – His wife Valentina and baseball. Working in the fields he often organized the other laborer’s children on weekends to play baseball, he even took on extra work to pay for used equipment so the kids would have bats, balls and mits.
Eventually Javier was able to get work in just one city and he and Valentina settled into a routine of working two jobs each. Javier still found a way to coach baseball though. His teams were always the misfits, the kids with limited talent, a mix of middle class and poor. Mostly the middle class kids were dropped off by parents looking for babysitting and the poor kids were just trying to fit in.
He wasn’t a great coach, just a great fan of baseball. He spent extra time with kids that wanted to practice, he made sure all his players played, and for those that didn’t have equipment he found ways to get them shoes or gloves. They lost many more games than they won, but they played.
As he got too old to coach and work he and Valentina found spots in charity retirement homes. The first one didn’t allow them to share a room. For 2 years they lived apart in the same complex. Eventually they managed to change homes.
She died from Cancer years ago, but died with Javier beside her, caring for her as he always did. It broke Javier’s heart.
Then in the last 2 years of his life the home wouldn’t allow Javier to travel by bus to the old park where the kids played baseball. He loved going there and just sitting watching the sport he loved played by kids. That broke Javier’s heart too.
I don’t know but I suspect if Javier had made different decisions then maybe his life would have been different. Maybe he would have owned his own home, maybe he and Valentina could have had children, and maybe many things could have been different.
Some people will say men like Javier make choices not to succeed, succeeding of course means making more, it means not relying on public handouts. It means lifting yourself above your economic situation by working longer and harder. Though I wonder how much harder can you work than 2 minimum wage jobs and then volunteering to be with kids.
And here is another maybe, maybe for men like Javier it’s not a choice but a calling. Richness is in the giving and not the taking. Maybe none us of know the treasures he found when he spent time with kids that parents don’t. I’ve been one of those parents, where my needs had to be filled before my child’s.
Looking back into my own childhood my coaches were never the rich, the important or famous. There were just people who still loved the idea that kids should get to play.
At the start I mentioned he was buried recently. You see when you die alone and broke in many American sates the local morgue will keep your body for 30 days to see if anyone claims you. Then you are cremated and the ashes stored for up to 3 years still waiting to be claimed. And finally if not, you are put in mass grave.
I wish I could tell you a story that lots of these young men he coached turned up at his funeral to say last respects but no-one did. No-one knew.
I don’t know what the answer is, I just know a lot of this is just wrong. And I believe we as a society have to stop looking at the poor as if they are doing something wrong. Because the truth is there are a lot of Javier’s out there giving much more than any of us do.
