JOSHUA TIME 247

MUST READ: The Folded Napkin>>>>You guys know how emotional I am and this story is the topper to it all.>>(It doesn't help any that the guys name is Stevie either). Enjoy and>>remember to fold your napkin for others!>>Love, Rita>>>> The Folded Napkin . A Truckers Story>>(If this doesn't light your fire ... your wood is wet!!!)>>I try not to be biased, but I had my doubts about hiring Stevie. His>>placement counselor assured me that he would be a good, reliable busboy. >>But>>I had never had a mentally handicapped employee and wasn't sure I wanted>>one. I wasn't sure how my customers would react to Stevie. He was short, a>>little dumpy with the smooth facial features and thick-tongued speech of>>Downs Syndrome. I wasn't worried about most of my trucker customers >>because>>truckers don't generally care who buses tables as long as the meatloaf>>platter is good and the ! pies are homemade. The four-wheeler drivers were>>the ones who concerned me; the mouthy college kids traveling to school; >>the>>yuppie snobs who secretly polish their silverware with their napkins for>>fear of catching some dreaded "truck stop germ"; the pairs of >>white-shirted>>business men on expense accounts who think every truck stop waitress wants>>to be flirted with. I knew those people would be uncomfortable around >>Stevie>>so I closely watched him for the first few weeks.>>>>I shouldn't have worried. After the first week, Stevie had my staff >>wrapped>>around his stubby little finger, and within a month my truck regulars had>>adopted him as their official truck stop mascot.>>>>After that, I really didn't care what the rest of the customers thought of>>him. He was like a 21-year-old in blue jeans and Nikes, eager to laugh and>>eager to please, but fierce in his attention to his duties. Every salt and>>pepper shaker was exactly in its place, not a bread crumb or coffee spil! >>l>>was visible, when Stevie got done with the table.>>>>Our only p roblem was persuading him to wait to clean a table until after>>the customers were finished. He would hover in the background, shifting >>his>>weight from one foot to the other, scanning the dining room until a table>>was empty. Then he would scurry to the empty table and carefully bus >>dishes>>and glasses onto cart and meticulously wipe the table up with a practiced>>flourish of his rag. If he thought a customer was watching, his brow would>>pucker with added concentration. He took pride in doing his job exactly>>right, and you had to love how hard he tried to please each and every >>person>>he met.>>>>Over time, we learned that he lived with his mother, a widow who was>>disabled after repeated surgeries for cancer. They lived on their Social>>Security benefits in public housing two miles from the truck stop. Their>>social worker, who stopped to check on him every so often, admitted they >>had>>fallen between the cracks. Money was tight, and what I paid him was >>probably>>the difference be! tween their being able to live together and Stevie >>being>>sent to a group home. That's why the restaurant was a gloomy place that>>morning last August, the first morning in three years that Stevie missed>>work.>>>>He was at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester getting a new valve or something >>put>>in his heart. His social worker said that people with Downs Syndrome often>>have heart problems at an early age so this wasn't unexpected, and there >>was>>a good chance he would come through the surgery in good shape and be back >>at>>work in a few months.>>>>A ripple of excitement ran through the staff later that morning when word>>came that he was out of surgery, in recovery, and d! oing fine. Frannie, >>the>>head waitress, let out a war hoop and did a li ttle dance in the aisle >>when>>she heard the good news. "Belle Ringer", one of our regular trucker>>customers, stared at the sight of this 50-year-old grandmother of four >>doing>>a victory shimmy beside his table. Frannie blushed, smoothed her apron and>>shot "Belle Ringer" a withering look.>>>>He grinned. "OK, Frannie, what was t hat all about?" he asked.>>>>"We just got word that Stevie is out of surgery and going to be okay.">>>>"I was wondering where he was. I had a new joke to tell him. What was the>>surgery about?">>>>Frannie quickly told "Belle Ringer" and the other two drivers sitting at >>his>>booth about Stevie's surgery, then sighed: "Yeah, I'm glad he is going to >>be>>OK," she said. "but I don't know how he and his Mom are going to handle >>all>>the bills. From what I hear, they're barely getting by as it is." "Belle>>Ringer" nodded thoughtfully, and Frannie hurried off to wait on the rest >>of>>her tables.>>>>Since I hadn't had time to round up a busboy to! replace Stevie and really>>didn't want to replace him, the girls were busing their own tables that >>day>>until we decided what to do. After the morning rush, Frannie walked into >>my>>office. She had a couple of paper napkins in her hand and a funny look on>>her face.>>>>"What's up?" I asked.>>>>"I didn't get that table where "Belle Ringer" and his friends were sitting>>cleared off after they left, and "Pony Pete" and "Tony Tipper" were >>sitting>>there when I got back to clean it off," she said. "This was folded and>>tucked under a coffee cup." She handed the napkin to me, and three $20 >>bills>>fell onto my desk when I opened it. On the outside, in big, bold letters,>>was printed "Something For Stevie". "Pony Pete" asked me what that was all>>about," she said, "so I told him about Stevie and his Mom and everything,>>and Pete looked at Tony and Tony looked at Pete, and they ended up giving >>me>>this." She handed me another paper napkin t! hat had "Something For >>Stevie">>scrawled on its outside. Two $50 bills were tucked within its folds >>Frannie>>looked at me with wet, shiny eyes, shook her head and said simply:>>"truckers.">>>>That was three months ago. Today is Thanksgiving, the first day Stevie is>>supposed to be back to work. His placement worker said he's been counting>>the days until the doctor said he could work, and it didn't matter at all>>that it was a holiday. He called 10 times in the past week, making sure we>>knew he was coming, fearful that we had forgotten him or that his job was >>in>>jeopardy. I arranged to have his mother bring him to work. I then met them>>in the parking lot and invited them both to celebrate his day back. Stevie>>was thinner and paler, but couldn't stop grinning as he pushed through the>>doors and headed for the back room where his apron and busing cart were>>waiting.>>>>"Hold up there, Stevie, not so fast," I said. I took him and his mother by>>their arms. "Work can wait for a minute. To celebrate you coming back,>>breakfast for you and your moth! er is on me!">>>>I led them toward a large corner booth at the rear of the room. I could >>feel>>and hear the rest of the staff following behind as we marched through the>>dining room. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw booth after booth of >>grinning>>truckers empty and join the procession. We stopped in front of the big>>table. Its surface was covered with coffee cups, saucers and dinner >>plates,>>all sitting slightly crooked on dozens of folded paper napkins.>>>>"First thing you have to do, Stevie, is clean up this mess," I said. I >>tried>>to sound stern. Stevie looked at me, and then at his mother, then pulled >>out>>one of the napkins. It had "Something for Stevie" printed on the outside. >>As>>he picked it up, two $10 bills fell onto the table.>>>>Stevie stared at the money, then at all the napkins peeking from beneath >>the>>tableware, each with his name printed or scrawled on it. I turned to his>>mother.>>>>"There's more than $10,000 in cash and checks on the table, all! from>>truckers and trucking companies that heard about your problems. "Happy>>Thanksgiving,">>>>Well, it got real noisy about that time, with everybody hollering and>>shouting, and there were a few tears, as well. But you know what's funny?>>While everybody else was busy shaking hands and hugging each other, >>Stevie,>>with a big, big smile on his face, was busy clearing all the cups and >>dishes>>from the table. Best worker I ever hired.>>>>Plant a seed and watch it grow. At this point, you can bury this>>inspirational message or forward it fulfilling the need! If you shed a >>tear,>>hug yourself, because you are a compassionate person.>>>>Well... Don't just sit there! Send this story on!