SIG
The first time I saw Sig I thought
he was a homeless man, a street person.
He came to our Sunday school class, drawn by Dr. Price. He was searching for truth, and for him that
was a struggle. He was a fairly tall
man, but bent over and slouching. His hair
was gray, his face lined, teeth missing.
He was wearing work clothes, but they were clean. He kept his head down and seldom spoke. He was Jewish and proud of the fact, though
he was not a practicing Jew.
I often saw him at the flea market
on Twenty-third Street. I spoke to him,
but he never answered, never even looked up.
I kept at it, always with the same response (or rather, lack of
response.) But then it changed. He needed a ride (as far as I know, he had
never driven or owned a car.) My husband
volunteered to take him where he needed to go, and so began a strange
friendship. Soon my husband was his chauffeur.
Then, another change came when my
husband started bringing him home, usually for a meal. Most of the time he ate whatever I had
prepared, but Sig would decide every few months that he wanted to
barbecue. He would bring the meat and I
would fix the rest of the meal. He
worked every time to perfect his barbecue sauce and I was his assistant,
finding what he needed and handing it to him.
Then we would have this huge meal and after I had cleaned up the dishes,
Sig and I would sit in the living room and visit. We talked about philosophy, society,
government, religion. Sometimes I played
the role of mother (though he was ten years my senior!), scolding him or
offering advice.
I think my children were actually a
little bit afraid of him, sometimes uneasy in his presence, but he did have a
place in our family. I have not seen him
in many months, life having changed for both of us.
Last Sunday I opened the paper to
the obituary page and saw that Sig had died in a local health care
facility. I grieved for him and hoped
that there would be some recognition of his death. I was afraid that he would be ignored in
death, as he often was in life. There
was no announcement of a funeral, but Tuesday afternoon I read the paper and
saw that there had been a graveside service for him at the National Cemetery. Since my son-in-law works at the cemetery, I
asked him about the burial. He said that
there had been a full military burial and that somewhere between seventy-five
and a hundred people had been there that morning. Even an ex-mayor had been present, since Sig
had worked for the city on the street crew for many years!
I realized then that I had
underestimated Sig. I had forgotten the
people he sat next to on city buses and had given money to, when he saw their
needs. I forgot the waitresses he had
befriended. I forgot that, in his own
way, he had been concerned for people and their needs. He made an impact on this city, on his world.
Every person is valuable, is worth
honoring. I will remember Sig. I honor his life.
~~Faith Himes Lamb
