Mary the panhandler

Long story shortened: I had the little-old-lady shopping cart when entering the bottleshop by the backdoor, having used the little blue cart to haul an oversized load of trash directly to the dumpsters outside.

Lurch was on the telephone. I stocked up on cold beer, the kind I recently discovered that I like, and the usual 12-pack of Coke. I was just in time too because Lurch hung up the phone quite cross about a package being misdelivered. He must close shop now and hasten down there and rush back. We walked out the front door together onto Broadway.

Immediately we two were approached by a woman who appeared to be in waiting, and appeared to be native. Lurch addressed her directly. "We're closed for a moment. I must go down there and check something." The woman spoke sweetly, haltingly, timidly,
"Do you guys have fifty-seven cents? I only want a beer and I need fifty-seven cents." Now Lurch snapped, "No panhandling in front of the store" and sped down the street.

The woman turned away dejected. I started off in the direction of Lurch where I would tuck into my entrance before his return, then halted before taking a second step. I have a cart with two cold six-packs of premium beer that I like, my favorite types that I just now discovered since the story back then about the Belgium town that named a beer for American soldier Vince Sperancza of 101 Airborne, and designed ceramic mugs in the shape of army helmets to serve it. I tried a lot of beers with silly names and labels with fantastic individual character. Even Colorado beers have become quite interesting. Sold at premium beer prices everything I've tried so far, pretty much, is worth it. Beer seems inexpensive. Compared to everything else. Come on. I don't even drink most of it. I decided to keep some cold for emergencies, for unexpected things, and it worked. I offer beer to people all the time. And it is good tasting beer too, a topic of conversation. There I am out on a main street of town with a cart of bottles of beer, a very cross Lurch down the street, and a distressed woman short mere cents in immediate want.

"Hey, come 'ere."

Damn, she's agile.

"Wass'yur name?"

"Mary." 

"I'm Chip. You got a bottle opener?"

"What?"

"Do you have a bottle opener?"

"I can open one with a lighter."

Clever girl. I would like to see that. "Here. Mary, you are really going to like this beer." 

Back home, I haven't put the bottles away yet, every time I walk past and see the two untended six packs with an empty slot I think of Mary and her delightfully round face lighting up at having a beer passed to her like that following such a sharp rebuke from Lurch, the big meanie who is always so serious.

I must also recall the Denver architect, among the most impressively ironclad liberal and politically active persons that I know, declaiming moralistically and ethically about how he will not give cash to bums because they'll go immediately and spend it on liquor anyway. I told him that I sure get my share of free drinks, and much of that from people I don't know all that well. We were at such a gathering at the time, the host and hostess hired a bartender. He agreed when you travel in the right circles you do get a lot of free drinks, I respond poorly to that type of thinking and my impulse was argue about traveling in circles but the point was made and ever since then I've tried to broaden my circles or else increase them. I don't feel bad at all for contributing to the delinquency of a minority, in fact I feel good about it, besides, Jesus told me to stop being such a dick. 

Hey-sus, the guy on the building department crew.

I think that empty beer six-pack slot is funny. Lurch would not approve, and that makes it even more funny, in fact, I am leaving the beer out just so I can see the empty slot more.