Summer and Hobos

We have had such an enjoyable weekend with part of our family here in our home. John loves to tell stories of his childhood; reciting one right after the other to whomever will listen. This weekend, it was Cheryl, Clark and Joel. My growing up years weren't nearly as exciting as his. However, I was able to insert a couple of stories I remembered while growing up.

Perhaps it was the smell of mother's homemade vegetable soup that brought them. Or maybe it was the chicken she was frying up for our supper that night. I suspect after the first one came, word spread like wildfire about the sweet lady who lived in the white house with the green roof a block from the railroad depot. As soon as the whistle blew , the hobos would hop off the train trying to get away before they were caught by the conductor.

Most hobos had a way of corresponding with other hobos by developed a system of symbols, or a code. Hobos would write this code with chalk or coal to provide directions, information, and warnings to other hobos. The symbol for "nice lady lives here" was the drawing of a cat. I feel sure there was a cat drawn somewhere very close to our home.

A couple of times a week it seemed, as soon as we would hear the train whistle blow, we could expect to see at least one hobo or maybe two approach our screened in porch. Mother never seemed to be afraid of these men even though she did keep the screen door latched when my daddy wasn't around. The men would tap gently on the back screen door and mother would stick her head out the kitchen door,

"What can I help you with?" she would ask.

"Ma'am, I'm kinda hungry and I jest was a wonderin' if you might spare a slice or two of bread."

Mother, of course, never settled for just giving them a slice or two of bread. She would pour a glass of water then dish up whatever she had available, take it to the screen door and unlatching the door, hand them a drink and whatever there was to eat, then latch the screen door again. I have watched them many times set down on our back porch steps and eat with gusto whatever she served. When they were finished, most of the time, they would tap gently on the screen door and say ,

"Thank you, ma'am. I appreciate yore good cookin' " and they would trudge off.

I have wondered many times since then as I looked back on those days why my mother was always so willing to help out those dirty, smelly hobos when she received nothing in return. We were not wealthy people. There were weeks when I know mother wondered if there would be enough food for the three of us. But, my mother was a woman of faith. She read her bible and she knew what God had ask all of us to do. And, my mother did it.

" I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.
Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’
“The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’ Matt.25:35-40 NIV