Emerging Courageous Online Magazine - Stories
Tin Can Shoes by Ellie Braun-Haley
Her shoes were tin cans. They were about four inches tall and what appeared to
be ordinary 14-ounce cans. The cans seemed to act as protectors for the lady as
she crawled. Well actually she didn’t really crawl, as she had no knees. I
imagine she possibly had short stubs for legs with cans fitted over them. I
watched her as I sat at the sidewalk café.
She moved slowly by leaning forward until her gloved hands were on the pavement,
then she hoisted herself forward, dragging her trunk and the tin can protectors.
Then she would lean forward again and the procedure repeated itself. When she
was right across from me she halted and sat there gazing around at the people.
When she took off those black leather gloves I could see she had no hands, just
a trace of a palm, approximately one third the amount of a regular palm, but no
fingers, no thumbs.
The day was beautiful and she sat there in the sun, looking comfortable serene
and comfortable, observing life around her.
Beggars are not uncommon in this Mexican city but she was indeed the most needy
person I had ever encountered yet she was not begging. Then it hit me, how could
she possibly beg? She couldn’t hold out her hand in the gesture of the old
ladies or full families sitting along the streets, begging for pesos (Mexican
currency). She couldn’t, because she did not have a hand to hold out. Some
beggars set out cups or bowls or cans to receive cash from thoughtful strangers
but she would be unable to hold these and in the end how would she return it to
the bag she had strapped around her neck?
My heart went out to her and I opened my wallet to find money for her. When I
approached her with it she brought up her right arm to accept it and as I leaned
down to her it hit me that there was no place to put the money. I asked her if
she would like me to place it in her bag and with a lovely smile and a pleasing,
soft voice she said yes and thanked me.
I returned to my seat and continued talking with my husband but found my
thoughts and eyes straying to her. I sat there worrying about her. The other
beggars could do many things to earn money but her options for earning a living
were extremely limited. I began silently urging the crowd to look down and
notice her. “Please, can’t you see her? Please help her!”
A group of tourists next to us paid their bill and started to leave. I looked at
them and thought, “Please see her and open your heart and your handbag.” But
one by one they passed her by, not even glancing down, yet I knew they had to
have seen her. If they looked down they would have had to acknowledge her
existence. Was it easier for them to pretend she didn’t exist?
A group of tourists next to us paid their bill and started to leave. I looked at
them and thought, “Please see her and open your heart and your handbag.” But
one by one they passed her by, not even glancing down, yet I knew they had to
have seen her. If they looked down they would have had to acknowledge her
existence. Was it easier for them to pretend she didn’t exist?
But then the last lady in the group stopped and opened her handbag. I held my
breath, hoping she was looking for cash, not for a tip, but instead something
for the lady with the tin can shoes. She retrieved something from her bag and
walked over leaning down to offer it to the physically challenged lady.
I saw the sweet smile of the lady with the tin can shoes as she accepted the
charity. Then I watched as she began her slow journey down the street: lean
forward, connect with pavement and pull. What a resilient woman! She moved in an
astounding manner.
I had been in this city many times over the years and I recognize many of the
beggars. The majority of them use whining to get the attention of the tourists.
But this lady in the tin can shoes was different. She had an attitude about her.
She was accepting and uncomplaining and I felt I had encountered someone very
special ,a woman of grace.A. She didn’t ask for anything. In fact, it was as
though she was oblivious to her own plight. She merely sat, enjoying the day,
gracing each stranger with a smile.
I don’t think the lady with the tin can shoes was there to “take or even
accept” what we had to offer. She was there to give.
Ellie Braun-Haley Browden, Alberta, Canada
[email protected]
About this writer:
Ellie’s most enjoyable pastime is being with her family, two
daughters and three grandchildren. Ellie says “How we respond to adversity is
a measurement of who we are. Stories by Ellie have been published in numerous
publications, most notably Chicken Soup for the Soul of America and Heart
Warmers of Spirit, and Emerging Courageous.
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