A true story about a 12 year old..

Vincent
(An Important Lesson
for All Grownups;
Especially In Today's World)

By D. M. Urquidi

(1973)

School was out for the day but Vincent did not go straight home. He first made his way past the decaying store fronts on east Main Street. He whistled merrily as he walked. People he passed smiled even though the afternoon sky was gray and overcast.

Vincent had not been in the city very long; arriving from a sunny, bright southern city where even the old buildings were more white than gray.  The weather here was different though and all the buildings seemed somber His lightweight jacket did not keep out the chill wind; he pulled it tighter around him and wlaked a little faster.

He stopped monentarily at the river.  Seagulls screeching raucously to each other, The weather here was different though and all the buildings seemed somber, The single lone boy on the ridge did not bother them. Birds sitting on the piles ruffled their feathers against the chill air, calling to their friends in the sky.

Vincent shrugged his shoulders and went on across the bridge. The police station was not that much further.  He crossed Main Street and went lup the hill to CIty Hall. Deep red in color, it had aged into a blackened, sooty color, retaining only a vestige of the red tones of the baked bricks. The door was inpressive and opened easily. The woman at the reception desk looked up briefly. Then returned to the  papers on her desk. A small boy was not an important dignitary, nor a qualified property owner. She was startled to hear his voice at her elbow.

“Wh.wh.wh. . where d.d.d.do I go to get a ;s.s.s.shoeshine license?”The boy was talking directly to her...

Taken back by his speech, she took a long, hard look at the boy in front of her.  He was almost four feet tall, with blond curly hair and blue eyes. Funny, he had a sun tan. Now where would a boy get a sun tan in October?  HIs jacked was emblazoned with many patches but the seam on one side had worn through. And his tee-shirt was quite visible. This is sweater weather, not tee-shirt weather she thought grumpily.

“Over at the police station.”  Her answer was short and to the point; she had a lot of work to do.

. “H.h.how d.d.do I get there?” He sensed that she did not want to be bothered.

“Go down the hill; turn to your right until you get to the red light, then turn to your right again, It’s at the top of the hill. She turned back to her work.

“Thank youl.” She looked up sharply,. “No one from around here ever said “thank you.”  As Vincent left the building, she stared after him musing. He doesn’t even walk like the kids around here. There seemed to be an extra bounce to his step. In spite of his stuttering he seemed to have a confidence and cheerfulness that lit up the room in spite of her short answers.

“Stop being silly.” she scolded herself, “kids are the same all over.”

Out on the street again, Vincent went back down the hill.  Turning to his right, he was surprised to see the red light on the next corner. He expected to,have to walk four or five more blocks. Turning right again, he made his way up the steep hill. At the top was a new modern building that reminded him of the sunny south. Over the front door, it read, “Municipal Police Station.” Yep, that’s the place all right.”

He took a shortcut through the parking lot. He was just about to step up to the door when he noticed behind the buildling on the other side of the street the dingy, red City Hall. He could have just walked across the street,. Why didn’t the woman tell him that?

The glass door opened with ease. Would it be this easy to ask for what he wanted, he wondered. Would they understand him? He still could not talk without stuttering..Bob told him what to ask for but he still did not know what to expect.

“I.i.i;.. . .” Blast this tongue of mine, thought Vincent. Valiantly he struggled on. “W.w.w.want a S.s.shoeshine License.”  There, that was better.

The policeman at the desk did not even blink. He gave Vincent directions as if he would have given them to a grown-up. Thanking him without stuttering, Vincent went in the direction indicated.

A short time later, he walked out of the building with his most prized possession:: a shoeshine box with the number 707 emblazoned on the side. A bright yellow color, it made the gray, dreary streets seem more cheerful.

Hurrying home, he made plans to start working as soon as possile. As soon as he could buy the polishes. Mom woud help, she always did.

Bright and early Saturday morning, he was out on the street. He did not know the first thing about polishing shoes but he was determined to try. At first, he only stopped the men on the street, but he found that he was not getting anywhere. No one seemed to be interested..

Soon he found himself in a conversation with another shoeshine boy about his own age. After comparing notes, they agreed that neither of them were doing much business on this particular street so they decided to go downtown..It turned out to be a very profitable day

It was late when Vincent realized it was time to go home. Mom would have supper ready and she always fussed so when no one was home to eat it when it was hot. It was silly of her to fuss all the time about that, but then maybe not. . .cold supper didn’t always taste the same as hot food. He turned to his new found friend to say good-by. . . . .

“Giove me the money you got.”

“What?” He did not stutter this time.

“You heard me, give me the money you got.”

“No, it is mine. You have yours.”

“What you got is mine too. Give it to me.”. The menacing attitude of the boy was real. Vincent did not struggle. The other kid was  bigger than he was..

Pockets empty, he stood on the corner stunned. But only for a few minutes. Resolutely he started for the poolice station.  One the way, he saw a police car and stopped it instead. He reported the theft to the office who was kind and understanding.  .  the office had heard the story before and even though knew little could be done, he took down the information.

Vincent, not realizing it was hopeless, he went home with dragging steps. He had done what he could. . . it just wasn’t fair for him to have done all that work and to have someone just walk off with the money he had had earned.

Mom turned out to be sympathetic in an off-handed sort of way. She knew from past experience  the street is a hard place to learn. She knew that Vincent had to learn from experience.even though she could sympathize but there was even less she could do about the situation.. She, like the police officer, did not hold any hope the money would be returned.

* * * * * * * *

A month later, she and the police officer were both surprised. It was the day the birthday party of  Vincent’s sister had been planed. His mother had gone to the bakery to pick up the birthday cake when right on the corner she saw a police car.  Vincent, and several other kids standing around. There, in the car talking to the office, was a slender boy with a gray-green shoe box. Vehemently, he was shaking his head.

‘No, it ain’t true. That kid don’t know what he’s talking about.”

Friends of the boy were watching with interest. No one who had tried the buddy-stunt had been caught before.  “Aw …. he won’t be able to prove anything.” one whispered cautiously.to a friend.:

“Can I help? I’m Vincent’s Mother.” The officer looked up briefly.  Vincent was mistaken. He may have seen the number on the boy’s box today and confused it with the report of a month ago.

VIncent interjected: “I can take care of it  myself.”

“What’s happening?” His mother notice that he stuttered even less this time.

“Oh, I just found the kid who took the $8.00 from me. That’s all.”

The officer, seeing that the questions were being answered. Didn’t bother to embroider the explanation. Her question answered, even though not completely, and finding that she was ignored otherwise, walked away, feeling very strange.

This was her baby. The one that could not fend for himself. Only here on the street corner, he was not a baby any more. He was completely in command of the situation. What will be next?

Vincent’s mother did not say very much. She well aware of his speech difficulty but she was certain that her son was a pretty sharp cookie in spite of it. Thanking the detective, she offered him a piece of the birthday cake. He refused graciously and went his way.

Not long after the phone rang. The detective was no longer apologetic. He had read the earlier report and the number of the box was the same as Vincent gave to the officer today. He also contacted the boy’s mother and she was going to call. Would that be agreeable? Of course, it was.

The birthday was turning into an upsetting afternoon. Those invited were staying away, Tina, stoic as she pretended to be, was quite upset. But new neighborhoods are like that. Only a short time later the boy’s mother called to apologize for her son's behavior.

Vincent’s mother invited her and her family over to share the birthday cake. She did not come. It was such a shame. Children are the same all over the world. Why do parents have to get up tight with each other when the children blow their relationships?

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

The incident was forgotten. The money never turned and winter melted into a beautiful springtime, The drab, dreary houses sparkled with fresh flowers in the gardens.  Some houses even got painted.The neighborhood became quite attractive. Summer followed close behind spring. Once again the phone rang. Vincent was at the station downtown. His mother was told not to worry, everything was all right.

“What do you mean everything is all right?” Vincent’s mother had all sorts of horrible visions.

“Well, ma’m, it’s just that he caught the boy who took the money from him and nobody’s leaving here until the money is returned.”

Hanging up the phone, Vincent’s mother shook her head: “I would never want him to go after me, for any reason.”  There was really nothing she could do. Rush down to the station? For what? Vincent seemed to be doing fine without parental assistance. She puttered around the house aimlessly. It was very defeating to be useless.

Br.r.r.r.ing. The telephone startled her out of her reverie. “What now?” She wondered, as she picked up the phone.

“Mom. .Guess where I am.” It was Vincent sounding very pleased with himself.

“I don’t know. All I do know it that you were at the police station a while ago. Where are you?

“I.i.i.’ m at Barney’s.” Barney’s was a little luncheonette on East Main.

“I’m buying lunch for the boy who stole my money.”

“You got it back?

“Sure, and you know what?”

“No..What?” Mentally she thought, persistence is a great attribute,a very financially sound principle.

“ I told him it wasn’t very nice to steal; Bye”

The phone clicked in her ear. She stood there flabbergasted, What does one do with a boy like that? Who ever heard of a thief being treated to lunch? Why can’t grownups be like that? No grudges, no hard feelings, just plain common sense.nothing more.