Earl and Sarah

“How’re ya feelin’?” I asked as I approached the trailer.

“Mostly with my fingers,” he replied with a grin that was barely noticeable on his mouth but that twinkled in his eyes.

I met Earl and Sarah at the home of one of my participants last week. They aren’t a part of the CAP elderly program, but they had requested that I come by their place to see if we’d be able to bring some Youthfest volunteers to help them out. They admittedly are the kind of folks who hate to have to ask for help, but they need it badly right now. Earl has cancer and a limited amount of time left here, and he wants to leave his wife with as light a burden as possible.

Earl is a handsome older gentleman with the posture of a military general and the easy-going manner of your favorite uncle. He wears a bright plaid shirt, dark blue jeans, and an old trucker cap. His face is long and square, and it would be stern if the corners of his mouth didn’t twitch upward and his eyes didn’t light up at the telling of a joke. He’s a born story-teller, a retired semi driver who’s traveled the country, experienced the lonely romance of the American road, and who has decided that his hollow is the only place in the world worth living in. The first time we met, we talked like we’d known each other for years. He told me stories about his travels to New York, slipping in funny anecdotes and close calls. At one point, Sarah walked by, and his wry humor gave way to genuine emotion. “That’s my world,” he said to me, looking straight into my eyes. “I could have spent my whole life looking and I’d never have found another woman like her.” He spoke with the self-assuredness of a man who is completely aware of his own mortality. Not only is he resigned to it. He’s at peace with it.

I stopped by their trailer for the first time today. I probably would have missed it if they hadn’t come out to greet me, flanked by three friendly mutts; I thought it to be abandoned. The place is in pretty rough shape. It doesn’t have a bathroom or running water. The yard is littered with debris, and the trailer itself is in a total state of disrepair. My stomach twisted into a knot as I thought of how difficult it must have been to stay warm there this winter, and how they would never have thought to complain or to ask for help before now.

Earl strode up to me, excusing himself to see a friend who lived up the hill. The effects of his recent surgery were painfully evident; the tip of his nose was gone, replaced by gnarled stitches and dirty gauze. Sarah smiled and invited me inside to sit with her and her son and to discuss what the Youthfest volunteers could handle. In keeping with their personalities, Sarah and her son didn’t ask for much. Only for the yard to be tidied a little bit. Perhaps the kids could dig to find the water line that had been covered up by run-off from a rainstorm. That’s all.

They showed me around the property, pointing at different areas that needed particular attention. Sarah extended her arm and swept it across the yard, saying, “This is the homeplace. He refuses to move. He was born here, he was raised here, and he’ll die here.” I smiled and told her that I was sure that the volunteers would love spending time with her and Earl, and that they would be more than happy to give the couple a hand. I explained that, while the work itself would be both challenging and rewarding, the kids would gain so much from conversations with the two of them.

“Earl’s such a great story-teller,” I told her. “He’s a wonderful person.”

“I know it,” she said with a sad little smile. And she really did.

As soon as I’d gotten out of range of the trailer, I cried. I can’t even tell you for sure why, exactly, I was crying. The situation itself is undoubtedly sad, but there was an emotion stronger than sadness working in my heart. I felt overwhelmed by Earl and Sarah - in a good way. Their life is one of extreme material simplicity. Earl’s been handed a slow and painful death sentence, and Sarah’s condemned to watch him go, only to be rewarded by a new kind of poverty, experienced by herself and not with her soul mate. But they smile. And everything about their relationship with one another speaks of love, respect, and gratitude. With the house literally falling down around them, they focus on each other, and they’re happy.

I can’t wait for the Youthfest volunteers to meet these two. They’re in for a treat.