By White Feather
Bradley took out a crate of oranges from the back of his SUV and set it on the ground. He then pulled out a folding lawn chair. Closing the back of the vehicle he then put his arm through the bottom of the folded chair so that it hung from his shoulder. Picking up the crate of oranges he proceeded to hunt for a spot to give away the oranges.
He walked down Main Street smiling at everyone he passed by. It was a delightful partly cloudy Saturday afternoon; neither too hot nor too cold. It was a perfect day for handing out fruit.
Fruit-giving was Bradley’s latest hobby. He had been doing it now for five and a half months. To his surprise it turned out to be the most rewarding hobby he had ever taken up. (One could say that it was very fruitful.)
He had learned the importance of finding just the right spot on the sidewalks of Main Street to set up on. He was mindful of not interfering with foot traffic but he also wanted a large amount of traffic to pass him by. On a good busy day he could give away an entire crate of fruit in less than half an hour. Other times it would take close to two hours to give away all the fruit in the crate.
Bradley had also learned that some fruits were easier to give away to people walking by. Apples and oranges were the easiest fruits to give away. Plums and peaches and bananas were not quite so easy. Mangoes and kiwi were almost impossible to give away.
After walking a couple of blocks Bradley decided to set up in front of a coffee shop. It was one of the busiest businesses downtown. Setting the crate of oranges down on the sidewalk, he then pulled the lawn chair off his shoulder and unfolded it. Sitting down in it he took three long deep breaths then looked up into the sky and quietly whispered, “I bless this day. I bless this day. I bless this day.”
Picking an orange out of the crate, he held it in his hand as he looked both ways for oncoming foot traffic. From his left a woman approached holding hands with two small girls; one on either side of her.
Bradley held out the orange towards the little girl closest to him, “Would you like an orange?” The little girl’s eyes lit up. But her mommy pulled her closer to her and began walking away quickly. As they walked away he blessed all three of them. The little girl turned around to look back at him. She smiled.
From the right a portly middle-aged man approached.
“Orange?”
The man slowed down, “Sorry, but I don’t buy fruit from strangers on the street.”
“But I’m not selling these oranges. I’m giving them away.”
The man stopped, “Really? What did you do? Use a syringe to inject poison into those oranges?”
“Oh gosh no.”
“Well I certainly would not trust you, you weirdo. You need to get a life, mister.” The man walked off.
Bradley blessed the man.
Bradley was off-putting to some people. Maybe it was his long gray beard that flowed down over his belly. Perhaps it was the red French beret he wore atop his bald head. Or it could be the fact that he sat in a lawn chair on the sidewalk giving away fruit.
He smiled when he saw a young black woman approaching with braids spewing out from her head in all directions. She was smiling.
“Yo there, Mister Fruit Guy. How you be?”
“I be fine and dandeee,” Bradley held out the orange which the woman took and put in her over-sized handbag. He then handed her another orange, “You’re so beautiful that you should get two oranges.”
“No, you give that one to someone else. There be plenty of beautiful people who could use an orange today, ya know.” She then put the palms of her hands together prayer-style in front of her and bowed her head, “Namaste.”
Bradley put the second orange back in the crate then put his hands together as he bowed his head, “Namaste.” He blessed the woman as she walked off.
Just then a young man wearing a striped tie and a brown button-down shirt came out of the coffeehouse and walked up to Bradley, “What the hell are you doing? You can’t sell things in front of my store. You probably don’t even have a vendor’s permit.”
“I don’t need a permit because I’m not selling anything on this public sidewalk. I’m giving these oranges away.”
“Not in front of my coffeehouse you’re not. I sell food in my coffeehouse — scones, donuts, pastries — and you’re out here in front of my shop giving food away? How dare you!”
“Would you like an orange?”
“No I don’t want a freaking orange! Listen, mister, there are plenty of sidewalks around here. You need to move away from my store and find some other place to hawk your oranges… and you need to move now before I call the police.”
Bradley blessed the man then stood up and put the lawn chair back on his shoulder. Picking up the crate of oranges he proceeded to walk away in search of another place to set up.
He had not gone far when he found himself walking past the local hardware store. He stopped cold in his tracks when he saw what was in the hardware store’s display window. It was one of those old-fashioned red metal Radio Flyer wagons. Back when he was growing up the neighbor kids had one of them.
Bradley proceeded to talk silently to himself, “Oh my God! That’s it. Instead of lugging around heavy crates of fruit I could put the fruit into that wagon and pull it behind me. That makes so much sense and would make my life easier. Heck, with a wagon like that I could start giving away cantaloupes. That does it. As soon as I give away all these oranges I’m coming back here and buying that little red wagon.”
He stared at that little red wagon for a very long time — until he realized that the crate of oranges that he was holding seemed to be getting really heavy. So he moved on.
Bradley finally set up his lawn chair in front of the local record store. It was one of the very last record stores left in existence. It was a great location because every time someone went into or out of the record store a cloud of music would escape out the door. He liked that.
For the next half hour he gave away most of his oranges and he blessed a lot of people.
Then, suddenly, a police car, its siren wailing and lights flashing, pulled into a nearby parking space. Two cops emerged from the vehicle and walked up to Bradley. Bradley got up from his lawn chair.
Just inches from Bradley’s face one of the police officers asked, “Do you have a permit to sell those oranges?”
“No, I don’t. But I’m not selling them. I’m giving them away.”
“That don’t matter. Now turn around and put your hands behind your back.”
Bradley blessed the cop then did as he was told as the cop handcuffed him. The other cop gathered the remaining oranges and the lawn chair and put them in the trunk of the police cruiser as evidence. Before he knew it Bradley was being shoved into the back seat of the police car and hauled away.
He ended up spending that night in jail. He was unable to get much sleep in his jail cell and that is because he simply could not stop thinking about that little red wagon.
Copyright by White Feather. All Rights Reserved. Thanks for reading.