The chilling northeasterly wind hit me full in the face as I came out of Gosman. I buttoned my Navy P jacket - a souvenir of World War II - thinking what amazing warmth that single layer of wool afforded. I had just come from Carol Shedd’s class on The Old Testament. While sitting there, immersed in reading to myself, the ancient words from Exodus had jumped out at me across time: If thou at all take thy neighbor’s garment to pledge, thou shalt restore it unto him by that the sun goeth down for that is his only covering, it is his garment for his skin; wherein shall he sleep? Here I was at eighty four getting an education - late, but perhaps not too late.
That night as I lay in bed unable to sleep the word, “coat,” kept coming to mind. I got up and went to the bathroom, passing the room in which my night owl wife, Carole, was busy at the computer. “What’s the matter?” She called from her sanctum.
“I can’t sleep,” I replied. “I keep thinking ‘coat.’”
“What?” she exclaimed. “That makes no sense. Why don’t you fix yourself a warm glass of milk?”
I knew this was not a matter for milk, so I ignored her and returned to bed. As I pulled the sheet up I connected: coat, coat - of course - the guy with the jacket!
Closing my eyes I could visualize the scene as clearly as if I were back at the restaurant - 1975 - Ken’s at Copley - that was thirty years ago. I could see him sitting at the counter, on the outside nearest the door - no one next to him. I had taken notice of him when he came in. He looked down and out. His face was gaunt, his hair was matted and his pant cuffs were badly frayed. Only his jacket maintained the potential for dignity. It was camel brown - worn down to the warp, though it still had a vestige of style.
He ordered the London broil and a glass of wine. When he had finished the waitress cleared his plate and, in passing, remarked to me, “He ate quickly as though he hadn’t eaten all day.”
In those days I usually stood just inside the entrance near the cashier. While I was attending to some other matter I didn’t see him leave. The waitress said, “That man who just walked out didn’t pay his bill.”
I went quickly to the door to look up and down Boylston Street. By this time he had gone a block, walking briskly. I bolted after him with that long stride I used to have and soon caught up.
“Hey,” I yelled.
The fellow turned around.
“You forgot to pay for your check.” I said it politely as though he didn’t know what he was doing.
“No,” he answered forthrightly.
“Well, then, you better pay for it - now.”
He took out his wallet; it was thin and hadn’t seen a pay day in a long tome. “I just don’t have the money,” he said matter-of-factly. “I was really hungry. I can’t pay a dime. I have no money at all.”
I could feel the blood rushing to my face. It was a mixed emotion. I was angry but felt sympathetic to his condition. “I don’t have any money,” he repeated unapologetically.
“Look here,” I said. “You’ve got a jacket. Give me your jacket. Go find the money and then come back, and after you’ve paid me I’ll give you your jacket.” The fellow looked stunned but obediently took off his jacket and handed it to me - all without a word. When I saw him without his jacket I became aware how cold it was. As I turned away from him I could hear my mother saying, Kenneth, Ich hab dir nist azei gelerent. (This is not what I taught you.)
I didn’t think. I simply turned around to face him. “Here,” I said. “Take your coat. But don’t come back again.” His face was blank. He showed no feeling. I was disappointed that he didn’t even seem glad. I could sense that he was emotionally spent.
How bewildering are the workings of the world, the paths that life takes. Three moments in time had come back to me in the course of the day: my mother’s watchful instruction, sometime in the late 1920’s, the return of her words when I faced the man with the coat in 1975; and today, 2005, reading the admonishing question from Exodus. Wherein shall he sleep? Coat. No, you cannot take a man’s coat. How could such a mundane happening insert itself to make such a profound impression? I closed my eyes and fell headlong into a comforting sleep.