Charlie

By Bill Shepard

It has been nigh an half century since I sat and talked with the old man. The two of us often sat and shared our thoughts about this and that! It was by some strange coincidence that I came to know the old man, but I’ve always been glad that I did. It is doubtful that the old man ever had a visitor before, and he didn’t want one! He was content to live by himself, just he and the old cat that had come to be a permanent fixture. The little trailer where they both lived was too small for one but they seemed to be well adjusted.

I could fill this paper with stories I learned about Charlie. He could neither read nor write but his years of living had taught him more than a lot of men ever learn. As you will read, we became close friends and I felt very comfortable while in the company of Charlie. I have shared some of those memories in the following poem that was written more than forty years ago, after the old man died.

C H A R L I E C 0 W ART ……The way his name was printed on his mailbox drew my attention.

CHARLIE

“How are you doing old man?”, I said,
He answered, “I’m so tired (tared) I’m nearly dead.”
I remarked, “What you been doing to get thata way?”
He replied, “Been in the field all day.”

His face was brown from the evening sun,
If the end came today, his work was done,
Hoeing and plowing in the field all day,
This old man made his living that way.

He lived alone in a run-down shack
Just Charlie and his old stray cat­
His weather-beaten face, a story told,
Of one who had weathered, the heat and the cold.

He had little learning from the public schools
His guide was the golden rule
Do unto others as you’d have them do unto you,
This would work, he said it was true.

He was always ready with a helping hand,
I had received it many times from this old man
I could call on him by day or night
And he’d respond with all of his might.

“Sit down,” he said, and pointed to a chair,
What’s on your mind that brings you here? ” I don’t know,”
I said, ‘Just passing by.”
And he knew, I was telling a lie.

He seemed to know when I was troubled in mind.
Like he’d been there, time after time,
If you want to talk, I’ve got a good ear,
What other reason brings you here?

“Charlie,” I said, “You’ve lived a long time­
You’ve seen America;’ reputation rise and decline.
What’s the matter with the world today?
He thought a moment then said, “Man made it thata way.”

Couldn’t be the animals, we put them in a zoo,
No, the blame lies with men like me and you.

It started when Adam disobeyed God’s command,
Try to lay the blame somewhere else if you can.

I’ve lived long and seen lots of things, he said,
Poverty, suffering, Presidents shot dead,
I’ve loved America, its been good to me
I’ve always been proud of my liberty.

But somethings gone wrong in our fair land,
And I’m gonna change it, if I can,
But what can an old man like me do,
Now you see, I’m asking you!

I don’t know, old man I said,
The answer doesn’t lie with me,
and then I read,
Contradiction in his olde sad face,
“Yes, it does, you’re part of the human race.”

He squared his tired old shoulders then­
Said the answer lies within all men­
Strive to do good “‘ith all your might
Then the world will be alright.

I drove away from his place that day,
A far richer man for have gone that way,
I had not counseled with the intellect,
But with an old man, Charlie, whom I had come to respect.
4-23-75

Bill Shepard

Mr. Shepard is a native of Darlington, S.C., and a current resident of Piedmont, S.C. He is the author of “Mill Town Boy” and “Bruised”. He has been sharing his tales of growing up in Darlington for decades, and we are delighted to share them each week.

His mailing address for cards and letters is: Bill Shepard 324 Sunny Lane, Piedmont, S.C. 29673.

Author: Stephan Drew

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