I hoped for change and got it
Saturday, April 24, 2010 at 10:44AM 
Change. Photo Jennifer Weber 2010On a recent Thursday, all morning I was consumed with getting out of town. I was due in Lenoir, North Carolina, in time to prepare dinner for our second granddaughter's second birthday party.
Predictably for me, it took three hours to get presentable and pack for an extended weekend. I then had to schlepp all my stuff out to the car.
It was a process.
Then I was obliged to run several errands downtown: retrieve case-related materials from a law firm, drop off exhibits at the court reporting agency, and swing by a local computer repair shop.
(The four-month-old iMac -- a Christmas gift from my children -- has been acting up.)
The computer store is situated in the 600 block of Lady Street, in a newish row of brick establishments. The parking spaces are angled all along the sidewalk leading to the storefronts ... and they're punctuated by two-headed parking meters.
(You know the kind ... you drive up, get out, fish for change, and have to concentrate for a few minutes before you're sure you're feeding the meter that pertains to your car and not the car -- or empty space -- beside you.)
A wheelbarrow waited beside her and she looked gardening-ish.
Well ... you may not have to. But I do.
Only I didn't even get that far, because as I started my fishing expedition for spare change to stuff the slot, a picture flashed into my mind: an image of me, the last time I was in Lenoir, emptying my brick-heavy wallet of about four bucks in change and giving all of it to our five-year-old granddaughter, Melanie.
For her piggy bank.
And that meant when I opened the change-purse section of my wallet, it contained exactly two pennies.
Not exactly what the meter wanted.
I looked up, squinting in the bright sun, with what I am sure was an expression of frustration and dismay. What now?
That was my thought, word for word: "What now?"
And then I saw that I was being watched by a gentleman who stood outside the door of one of the stores. Actually I think it was a barber shop, and looking back I do believe he was a barber.
"Do you need change for a dollar?" he asked.
"I don't even have a dollar," I mourned as I riffled through the business cards and ticket stubs and discount coupons and receipts and other memorabilia that populate the part of my wallet where currency would usually go.
(I'm a dyed-in-the-wool member of the debit card generation. Who needs cash or coin?)
Remembering a tiny well in the console of my car, I ducked in to see what it held. Two dimes! I had two dimes! I waved them at the barber. My wonderful dimes winked in the sun.
"How much time do you think twenty cents will get me?" I asked him as I pushed those puppies into the meter's slender mouth.
Just then a female voice piped up and I whipped my head around to see where it was coming from. A few feet from the nice man's barber shop is a beautiful wrought-iron gate. A lady was standing behind it, peering anxiously at me.
Clearly she had been gardening because a wheelbarrow waited beside her and she looked gardening-ish.
"Do you need some change?" she inquired, her concern for me writ large on her face. "Because I can get you some! Just wait!"
And she trotted away before I could respond that I had found two dimes and thought I might be in good shape.
I arrived in plenty of time to fix supper.
By then the nice gentleman was approaching with his palm outstretched, offering quarters.
I pointed to the meter and reminded him that I'd inserted two dimes. I now had sixteen minutes to spend at L2 Technologies.
He looked, then grinned. "Yeah, but you fed the other meter," he said.
And I had. In my haste to give Thing One and/or Thing Two what it/they wanted, I had tossed my meager treasure into the wrong metal tummy.
My knight in armor more bright than those dimes chuckled.
"Here," he said. "Here are two quarters. Let's see what that will do."
And he put fifty cents into the (correct) meter, giving me forty minutes ... twice as much time as I needed.
I was so relieved that all I could do was point to him with a dazzling smile and say, "You are a good man."
And he is. I think maybe I owe him a loaf of my banana bread.
I never saw the nice gardening lady again. Whoever you are, sweet woman, thank you for being so willing to help me.
The trip to North Carolina went as planned and I arrived in plenty of time to fix supper. The baby's birthday party came off without a hitch.
Also there was shopping.
And several times throughout the weekend I told the story of the kindness of "strangers" whose generosity and gallantry made them seem more like long-lost friends.
Reader Comments (3)
You were blessed by them, but I bet it made their day to help you too!
Mrs. Weber,
Enjoyed reading this post so much!! And just so ya know, you're not the only one that puts the change in the wrong meter. I do it all the time!
~Kristy~
Mari, I certainly hope that's true! Wonderful how it works; eh?
Kristy, I'm glad I'm not the only one! Those things confound me every single time. Truth be known, I cringe at the sight of a parking meter. I just know if I go near one I'm going to get in trouble. Thanks for stopping by!