Nice Guys Like Ali

 

This morning I saw that our mayor was promoting a effort to support Afghan refugees coming from Afghanistan to stay at Fort McCoy in Wisconsin. A group was collecting things for the refugees. They wanted shelf stable goods, I filled up a bag of those. They wanted close pins. I filled a bag of those. They wanted towels. I filled up a bag with those. They wanted bedding. I filled a bag of bedding from Offspring #2's time living in Northfield. They needed fall clothing. I filled up a bag with a pair of boots I never wear and some clothing and scarves. They wanted toothbrushes and tooth paste. I filled a bag with my extra tooth brushes and Uncle Jimmy's toothpaste. I took all these bags to the Duluth International Airport (also known as the James Oberstar airport) and dropped them off at the Landline desk. The man there was very surprised to see me. He wondered how I heard about this. I mentioned the Mayor of Duluth announced it. He took me to a room where there was one other bag and a very lovely quilt lying on the floor. He said I was the second person to come in so far today.

The thing is I used to have a friend named Ali. Maybe he is still a friend. I haven't seen or heard from him in 20 years. Ali was born in Afghanistan and he had a tough life. Ali had a hand disability. He was missing some fingers from a birth defect. Persons with birth defects were thought of as shameful there. Some relatives looked at Ali like he was a mark of shame on their family. He was not a mark of shame. Ali was a nice guy. Ali was nice to me and to my family. He gave us generous gifts from his restaurant. Many of his gifts were beer signs but he also gave us Mexican pictures and bar stools. Ali took my son fishing many times. He paid my son to help him with yard work. I thought fifty bucks for four hours of work by an eleven year old was too generous. Ali gave my son all the foreign change he got at his restaurants. He had change from Canada, France, Great Britain, Australia, Spain, Belgium, Germany, Mexico and some country with Arabic writing on the coins.

Sometimes I think the world has gone mad. Why is there more fighting than peace? But then I think of nice guys like Ali. Maybe we can't solve all the world problems. If we can do something nice for someone else, like Ali did, maybe that will make a difference.