Mar 8, 2011, 10:19 AM
Post #9 of 22
Robt65 and Bournemouth,
I haven’t written in a while but the story Bournemouth provided is the kind of stuff which draws, pulls and rekindles life’s cherished and sometimes unforgettable moments who’s good in times such as these needs sharing.
Two years or so ago while renting a very nice house in a small Colonia called Chapalita in a part of Guad, the built in older stove had several gas pilot lights which burnt 24/7 and would ultimately give us pounding headaches. While I was at Wal-Mart, a very nice stove with electronic ignition was on a close-out sale, so I bought it and put it on layaway until I cleared it with the landlady. In a way she was shocked that I would make such an offer but since I still had two weeks to stay and we really liked this gorgeous house, she in turn opted to pay half and it became a done deal.
The next day there was a knock on the door and a light complexioned, slight looking dignified man announced he had a stove for delivery. I informed him that the old stove had to be removed and hauled away first and he said no problema senior. After disassembling the built in stove, and pulled away from the wall, unfortunately, there was a concrete slab extending about six inches from the wall and about 8 inches high from the floor, running the width of the stove. I instantly thought the stove I bought would have to go back but instead this slight looking man looked at me and his lips sporting a jet black thin mustache said “no problema senior, I come back in the morning and fix it.
Bright and early he was at the door and of course due to the size of the substantial concrete buttress preventing the stove installation, I thought maybe he’d be bringing some kind of jack hammer or something like a heavy duty sludge hammer of sorts but boy was I wrong. He looked at me with a gleam in his eye, a quick smile of confidence and both hands held up a small chisel and a hammer.
I secretly thought to myself, my God, this poor guy will be here all day, so I commented that perhaps he would do well with a sludge hammer and/or the like and he just gave me that mustachioed smile and again said no worry senior, I fix it. The hammering resounded throughout the house so the wife and I decided to go out and come back later that afternoon. It was getting late, and as we walked into the kitchen one could see that the slight looking Mexican man was disheveled and tired from working all day and quite honestly in empathy my heart went out to him and his spirit.
He looked bothered and his eyes reflected a sort of disappointment one can’t escape, such as running a race to the point of exhaustion and then falling short of your mark right at the finish. Chisel and hammer in hand he looked at me and said senior, I’m sorry, I couldn’t make the stove fit right. I looked at the space worked on and could see only a few bumps of concrete which needed smoothing out and it would have been a done deal. So I told him, let me pay you for what you did today and you can finish it in the morning. He looked at me with some kind of hurt and resolve in his proud strong eyes and with hands raised, as if saying no, he said, no senior, no gracias, I didn’t fix it, you don’t pay me.. My throat lumped, I choked and insisted he take the money but instead he grabbed and shook my hand, and walked out the door, never to be seen again, except in special moments such as these where memories of true grit, good and “well needed” stories such as these are always welcomed here in the house where I live.