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Goddessmother and baby painting




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A Good Samaritan In Disguise...A True Story
Pamela Sheer Newsom
Copyright�1998


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I can remember many years ago, twenty-five in fact, I was a young
housewife and mother. I had a 14 month old baby girl, and
I was such a proud mommy. Every day, after my husband would leave
for work, she and I began our daily routine. While I would busy
myself with the chores of the morning, washing the breakfast
dishes, and starting a load of laundry, she would play in front
of my faithful babysitter, the television set, and watch Big Bird
on Sesame Street or that sweet man, Mr. Rogers, as he would guide
his young viewers through his neighborhood.


We were a young family and prior to the birth of our daughter,
it took both of our salaries to get by. When she came along, I
went back to work as soon as I got my release from the doctor.
We enrolled her in a daycare center, and in no time at all, she had
the worse cold I could ever imagine. All new mothers are filled
with fear when their first borns become ill. We took her to her
pediatrician and he told us to keep her home from the nursery.


We had no one else here to help us, so her father and I decided
to take turns taking days off from work to care for her until
she was well. For some reason, my work place didn't see the
valor in the plan we had devised, and soon made it very clear
to me that I had to be at work or they would let me go. My
husband, who possessed a very hot temper during his younger
years, told me to quit when I explained to him what they had
said to me. So I did, I quit. Things were very rough for us but
we survived.


Well, one particular morning, I heard a knock at my front door.
I peered through the peephole and saw a short, stocky, balding
man with a tiny moustache. I will never forget him. I glanced
at the driveway, and I knew that I didn't recognize him or his
car. "Yes?", I said with the door still shut. He began telling
me that he was the man who, for years, had been coming through the
neighborhood taking pictures of all the children on top of his
cute little pony. I had seen some of his photos hanging on the
walls of a few of our neighbor's homes so I felt he was
legitimate. He would first make contact with the parents, and then
make appointments to bring the pony back on an agreed date
for the photos to be taken.


Now all young mommies want their child's picture taken with a cute
cowgirl hat on, sitting on the back of a pony but, I didn't have
the extra money. I explained to him that I just couldn't afford
to have the photo taken.


Becoming somewhat pushy, he began getting on my nerves a little.
He said to me, "Awwww, c'mon, everybody has a few extra dollars
to have their kid's picture taken on my pony!" He was smiling but,
I was not.


Finally I said to him, "Look mister, I know this may be hard for
you to understand but we don't even have money for food let alone
a picture of my daughter on the back of your pony!"


He stepped back, shook his head and asked, "Is this true?"


It wasn't exactly true but, things were so tight for us, if I had
spent money on the photos, then we would not have had as much money
for food that week. In other words, I could not justify the cost
for the pictures. I hesitated and then said to him,
Yes, it's true!" and I closed the door.


After I had put my baby girl down for her nap in the afternoon, I
sat down and began to watch my favorite soap opera. I heard a car
pull into the driveway. I noticed a prism of colors on the wall
as the sun reflected off the car's windshield directly through my
living room window. I heard one car door slam, and then another.
I thought maybe my parents had come for a visit. I glanced out the
window and saw him...the pony man. Oh, I was furious.


He knocked on the door. He could hear my television, I was
certain but, I refused to answer. Within seconds he got back
into his car and left. I was so relieved and continued to watch
my show. Something kept gnawing at me though, why the two car
door slams? I got up, looked out the window to make sure he
was gone and opened the door. There on the front steps sat two
bags full of groceries.


I am crying now as I write this...this complete stranger, who
probably wasn't much better off than my husband and I were,
believed me, and trusted me. I cannot begin to tell you what
his good faith meant to me, and how much that little man has
affected my life. I did not see him again until my daughter's
daughter was four years old, and today I have a picture of her
on top of his shaggy old pony hanging in my home.


I did thank him and he remembered.....




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