Val Campaigns For Backroads Citizen of the Year

Whew! My arm is kind of sore from patting myself on the back. I'm a regular do-gooder these days. If I'm not holding the door open for people who can't even spare me a thank-you nod, or giving an 11:00 a.m. alcoholic a dollar for whiskey, or allowing shoppers to go ahead of me in line (story still to come)... I'm helping the elderly with their gambling addiction.

Last week, I stepped in Country Mart for some scratchers. They have two machines, just inside the door. I knew which tickets I wanted, and from what machine. Problem was, an old man was at that machine. I'd been in there a couple other days, and the machine I'd wanted was blocked by shoppers' kids playing around poking at it, or other customers. The day before, this machine wouldn't take my money. So I'd gone to the other one. But this time, I did not. I came in there with a purpose, and I was going to complete my mission.

It's not like I was in a hurry. It didn't hurt me to wait. But I don't like making people feel uncomfortable. Like I'm looking over their shoulder to snoop at what they're buying, or judging them for their selection. I'm probably just projecting, because I don't like people standing behind me while I'm choosing tickets from the machine.

Anyhoo... Old Man was taking a long time. So much that I kind of peered over his shoulder to see if he was getting draw tickets, where you have to put in your numbers. He was not. Just scratchers. He looked over his shoulder at me twice. I kind of turned my head toward the other machine, rolled my eyes up at the ceiling, did everything short of fake-whistle a tuneless ditty. Just to show that I wasn't interested in what he was doing. I couldn't help but look, though, when he squatted down on one knee.

Mainly I was impressed that he could DO that! He was older than me (not many of those around these days). I most certainly can't squat down on one knee. Not and get back up.

Anyhoo... after a few minutes of squatting, Old Man stood up and walked out the door. I moved forward and started to put in my money when my eye was drawn to the ticket trough. The silver tray at the bottom where the tickets fall.

THERE WAS A TICKET STUCK AGAINST THE FRONT WALL OF THE TROUGH!

What to do, what to do?

Old Man was stepping through the outer set of double doors. They were closing!

"Sir? SIR??? I found your ticket!"

Old Man turned. Started back inside. I left the ticket there to show him.

"It was up against the front of the tray."

I picked up the ticket and handed it to him. Hope I didn't give it any bad juju by touching it. Then Old Man THANKED ME! He really thanked me! Yes. The older generation does that. They don't just look at you blankly and snatch their scratcher right out of your hand like you're some kind of freak.

Sheesh! I don't want a medal. It was the right thing to do. I would never have taken it. It wasn't mine. Besides, I don't play the dollar tickets.