Across the street from where we are currently working is a group home for handicapped young men. The first day we were on the job, I swore I heard an auctioneer. Looked out the window and there was Billy, pacing back and forth with his microphone calling out to an imaginary crowd.
“Who’ll give me five dollar? Who’ll give me five???”
On and on it went, for 15/ 20 minutes.
If you didn’t know any better you’d have sworn it was a real auction.
This will be the 4th week on this same job, and Billy has probably had a dozen auctions since I’ve been on the job. He’s crossed the street a couple of times just to give us give us some crap.
(Crap is German for good-natured teasing by the way.)
Billy is a big boy. Place him in his mid 20’s. He’s all of 6 ft tall, 220 pounds. Cusses like a sailor…worse than a sailor actually. But behind that intimidating exterior, is someone’s little boy. I have no idea who his parents were, or what the specific details of his disabilities are. I do know he can walk. He can carry on a conversation. I think he works part-time @ a local can sorting place for people with disabilities.
Having 2 grandchildren ourselves with disabilities has given me a whole different perspective on people like Billy than I used to have. He’s mobile. Lives on his own with minimal supervision. He has a job. Has a lot going for him.
Where I’m going with all of this you may be wondering….
Well, yesterday I decided to buy something @ Billy’s auction. I was working in the driveway, cutting out stair treads when I heard him again. Looked across the street and it looked like he was pointing right at me while he was calling..
So I raised my hand and shouted “Yep.” Then “Yep” again. Finally shook my head and made a cutting sign across my throat, indicating I wouldn’t go any higher.
Pretty sure I just bought my own truck.