Lighthouse...

...for the Blind
A non-profit organization that provides support for the blind.
Not intended to help people see the truth.

###

When I was in high school in the Seattle area
I worked for Lighthouse for the Blind
It was a house to house affair
We were given small suitcases
Stuffed with common household items
Much like the Fuller Brush man of old
The suitcases contained; yes, brushes
And ties, and scissors, and knives,
Plus pencils, pens
and all sorts of household items

We were also given scripts to memorize
Once someone opened their door
We were to head pell-mell into the spiel
I was typically paired with another
High school acquaintance of mine, Chuck.
We would carry different stuff in our bags
And swap leads when knocking on doors
Whoever was in front... did the talking
Chuck was a no-nonsense sort of guy
More or less totally devoid of humor
I mean I could get him to laugh once in a while
But I had to work my ass off at it
Not sure why I even tried
It was just something I felt compelled to do

Chuck was also terribly shy.
He was so shy
He could not look our potential customers in the eye
He would just knock on someone's door
And when they answered
He would stare at the door frame or something inanimate
And recite his spiel mechanically, from memory
I swear most of those who answered
Thought Chuck was blind when he did that
And perhaps I was just there to escort him
To make sure he didn't trip over anything

Chuck had the highest sales volume
Of anyone on our sales force there in Seattle.

###

Chuck and I hung out as pals... sort of
In our Junior year in high school
Not so much in our senior year
In fact, one night we were both
With our separate little, fairly low rent cliques
And some of my buddies and I
Stole a case of beer from Chuck and his buddies
Unseen of course

Later they were convinced it was us
So our two groups met in a deserted area to hash it out
One side said their piece and the other side said theirs
I said something in outright denial of the act
And my old pal, Chuck stepped forward and called me a "S___head".
I hadn't heard the word before and in a burst of righteous indignation
Called him to the middle of the group to do battle
Chuck was a lot taller than me but no stronger I believe
We took a few rookie slugs at each other
And I caught him then wrestled him to the ground
I was a high school wrestler of very modest skill
And Chuck knew absolutely nothing about it
I quickly had him pinned and was proceeding
To rub his face into the gravel
When he basically gave up
At that point, everyone had lost their taste
For the beer argument and that was that

Ironically, Boone Kirkman, who was in our high school
And would later become a professional boxer
Fighting George Foreman and others
Was also among the groups watching it all go down

Chuck didn't show for school for the next couple of days
Preceding the weekend
Presumably to heal his road rash a little
We never spoke again

###

If I were to see Chuck today

I would apologize

And offer to buy him 

A case of beer

I am sure he grew to be a good man.