Where Are Your Shoes?
"WHERE ARE YOUR SHOES?"
by Norman Vincent Peale
The people who report to us about the Quiet People they observe may be telling us about their own relatives-or it could be about utter strangers. In the "stranger" category is John Williams, who described an afternoon on the bus he drives in Milwaukee.
A week or so before Christmas, John was making his usual run westbound on Wisconsin Avenue. At the Marquette High School stop he picked up a bunch of boys who headed noisily for the back of the bus, horsing around, wisecracking. Kids, thought John Williams, shaking his head.
A few stops later, John pulled up in front of the Milwaukee County Medical Complex grounds, where a woman was waiting. She looked about thirty-five years old and her dingy gray coat was tattered from collar to hem. When she came up the steps of the bus, John saw she was wearing only socks on her feet.
"Where are your shoes?" John blurted.
"Is this bus going downtown?"
"Eventually we'll get downtown," John answered, still staring at her feet, "but right now we're going west."
"I don't mind the extra ride, as long as I can get warm." The woman paid her fare and sat down in a front seat.
John couldn't help himself. "Where are your shoes?" he asked again. "You can't be out on a day like today without shoes."
The woman sat up straighter in the seat and smoothed her coat. "Now, mister, don't you worry. The good Lord'll take care of me. Always has. I had enough to buy shoes for my kids and that's what counts."
John couldn't believe it. Here was a woman who didn't have any shoes on, telling him to stop worrying.
Before long, the bus pulled up at the 124th and Bluemound stop, where the high school crowd got off to transfer to another bus that would take them to their suburban homes. All the kids got off by the rear door-except one. This boy walked slowly up the aisle, then stopped in front of the woman and handed her his leather basketball shoes. "Here, lady, you take these." With that, he stepped off the bus and into the ten-degree chill in his stocking feet.
And that was how John Williams came to see the quietest of the Christmas quiet people in all of Milwaukee.
by Norman Vincent Peale
The people who report to us about the Quiet People they observe may be telling us about their own relatives-or it could be about utter strangers. In the "stranger" category is John Williams, who described an afternoon on the bus he drives in Milwaukee.
A week or so before Christmas, John was making his usual run westbound on Wisconsin Avenue. At the Marquette High School stop he picked up a bunch of boys who headed noisily for the back of the bus, horsing around, wisecracking. Kids, thought John Williams, shaking his head.
A few stops later, John pulled up in front of the Milwaukee County Medical Complex grounds, where a woman was waiting. She looked about thirty-five years old and her dingy gray coat was tattered from collar to hem. When she came up the steps of the bus, John saw she was wearing only socks on her feet.
"Where are your shoes?" John blurted.
"Is this bus going downtown?"
"Eventually we'll get downtown," John answered, still staring at her feet, "but right now we're going west."
"I don't mind the extra ride, as long as I can get warm." The woman paid her fare and sat down in a front seat.
John couldn't help himself. "Where are your shoes?" he asked again. "You can't be out on a day like today without shoes."
The woman sat up straighter in the seat and smoothed her coat. "Now, mister, don't you worry. The good Lord'll take care of me. Always has. I had enough to buy shoes for my kids and that's what counts."
John couldn't believe it. Here was a woman who didn't have any shoes on, telling him to stop worrying.
Before long, the bus pulled up at the 124th and Bluemound stop, where the high school crowd got off to transfer to another bus that would take them to their suburban homes. All the kids got off by the rear door-except one. This boy walked slowly up the aisle, then stopped in front of the woman and handed her his leather basketball shoes. "Here, lady, you take these." With that, he stepped off the bus and into the ten-degree chill in his stocking feet.
And that was how John Williams came to see the quietest of the Christmas quiet people in all of Milwaukee.
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