The Park Bench

I was 10 years old when I met the man who would change my life forever. It was a beautiful summer afternoon in the year 1976, Mom and I had just moved to a new town and I was excited to play at the neighborhood park for the first time. The playground equipment was rusted and dull, much like the rest of the community, but I was still determined to make the best out of it. While running to the swing set, I was startled by a figure of middle-aged man sitting on the park bench. I stopped to say hello and the man looked up slowly with a sad smile and nodded his head. I made my way to the swings but found myself curious about this man. He seemed to be in his own world, focusing solely on writing in the little black book in front of him. About an hour had passed when mom told me that it was time to leave. I looked in the direction of the man but I was too intimated to say goodbye.

About a week had passed and I couldn’t get the memory of this experience out of my head. I begged my mom to take me back to the park, but she was too tired from her 3rd shift at the hospital. I didn’t know anyone in this town yet, we had just moved from the city where we had lived with my father. I didn’t know all of the details at the time, I knew that my father would yell at my mom very loudly when he thought that I was asleep and as time passed, I noticed that he was “punishing” me more often for things that I did not do. I remember my mom saying “we need to get far away from him” and so, we left. Now we were here, in this run-down neighborhood where the only good memory I’ve had thus far is that one day at the park.

Although the man on the bench frightened me in some way, I felt like we could be friends. We both liked to be outdoors after all. I waited until mom was rested and relaxed before I asked if we could go to the park again, this time she agreed! Once the playground equipment was in sight I ran as quickly as I could to see if the man was there. He was. I was surprised to see that he was sitting in the same place as the last time and writing in the same little black book. He was so focused on his writing that I decided to just observe him. Some time passed and I had to leave but I knew I would talk to him soon.

At least once a week I would get to play at the park and every time the man was there but I never felt like it was the right time to talk, so I just watched. One day, I gathered the courage to sit next to him and ask him his name. He looked up timidly and answered “Joel”. Whenever I got to go to the park Joel was there and we would talk a little bit more each time. We usually talked about what we ate for supper the previous evening or what toys I liked to play with. He even started to smile when he saw me, I had never seen him smile at anyone else.

A few years had passed and I was getting ready to enter high school. I had quite a few friends now and was afraid to be seen spending time at a child’s park so I kept my distance for a couple of months. Although I missed talking with Joel, I was distracted by school and spending time with friends. However, on my walk home from school I would take the long way that cut through the park to see if Joel was there, he always was, until the day that he wasn’t. I had to look twice just to make sure that I was seeing clearly, it was strange that he wasn’t there – he was there every day for years. I jogged to the bench and found that he had left his notebook, I turned to the first page and saw his name and address written on the inside. I felt uncomfortable going to his home after avoiding him for weeks, but I felt that it was important to get the notebook back to him. So, I walked until I found his street name and house number and I knocked on the door. No one answered but the door was open a crack, I gently guided the door open and called Joel’s name. I heard a faint noise coming from down the hall, I walked in to see him lying on the ground, struggling to stand up. I ran to him and noticed blood coming from his nose. I got some towels and a glass of water and led him to his rocking chair. I asked if he is okay and he told me that he has been battling cancer for the last year and his condition has only recently gotten worse, the doctors say that he does not have much time left.

Tears filled my eyes and I was lost for words. I said the first thing that came to my mind: “Hey Joel, why do you go to the park every day?”. He saw his notebook sitting in my lap and asked me to open it. As I was skimming through the pages, he was telling me about how his wife and young son had passed away in a car accident fourteen years ago. He said that he would take his son to play at that park every day after school and after Joel Jr. passed, he wanted to keep his memory alive by writing stories of how he imagined the day would go if his family was still here. I was so overwhelmed with emotion that all I could do is look at him. He looked back at me for a while and said “you know, you remind me a lot of my son”. I nodded and replied “You remind me of the man that I wish my father could be”. I stood up to give Joel a hug but he began to cough uncontrollably and I could tell that he was low on energy. Before I could sit back down, he asked me to go to his bedroom and grab the shoebox that was under his bed. I went to hand it to him and he told me to keep ahold of it. He explained how he had been saving any extra cash he could since the day that his son was born in hopes to send him through college one day. He did not stop saving after his family had passed as he wanted to use it to help a family that was struggling, when the time was right. I was shocked by what I was hearing, Mom and I have been scraping by ever since we moved to this town. I was ready to open the box when he told me to wait until I got home. I agreed and asked him if I could stay to help him make supper. He stressed that he was very tired and was ready to go to sleep. I guided him to his bedroom and helped him into bed. As I said goodbye, he grabbed my hand, squeezed it tight and thanked me.

I waited to open the shoebox until I was home as Joel had requested. I explained to my mom why I had the shoebox and we opened it together. We had never seen so much money- $20,000. My mom fell to her knees and hugged me tight as she cried. She asked me to take her to Joel’s house so she could thank him properly and to see if he needed anything. I let her know that he was resting as he wasn’t feeling well. We decided to wait to visit Joel until after school the next day. Mom made cookies and we were on our way, while approaching his house we saw police officers and ambulance sitting in his driveway. It was too late.

I am now 35 years old and have since moved away from that small town. I have a wife and two children of my own. I still make my way to that town at least twice a year. I go to the run-down park, sit on the bench and write stories about my hero, Joel, in my very own little black book.