For Wilshire Baptist Church
I can’t believe someone stole our ice chest – out of the corner of our yard in broad daylight. It was there one minute and gone the next. I don’t know if it’s a random event or just another disappointing sign of the times.
So, why was the ice chest out there unattended in the first place? Glad you asked. Since the first day of school, we’d been putting the ice chest out under the tree next to our turquoise table. We stocked it with iced-down bottles of water and a sign taped to it that said, “Free Water.” We put it out there for the high school kids who walk down our street after school from about 2:50 to 3:10. It was still 100-plus degrees on those first days, and we thought it might be something nice to do.
The response wasn’t overwhelming but we’ve had a few regulars who stop by every day. We’ve especially enjoyed noticing two boys — one walks up into the lawn and gets a bottle and tosses it to his friend, and then he gets one for himself and they walk on down the sidewalk. On the first couple of days we sat out there at the table but the kids were hesitant to stop, so we turned it into self-serve and that has worked better. We’ve left the ice chest out there until dusk and have found that other people have stopped by as well. That includes a homeless duo on a couple of occasions who have sat at our table and taken a cool break from their travels. And one late afternoon I was out working in the driveway and looked up to see a little girl walking toward me with a five dollar bill. “Here, this is for the water,” she said, and I replied, “You don’t need to pay for the water,” but then I heard a shout and looked up to see a school bus idling across the street with the driver hanging out the window. She shouted over the engine, “We appreciate the water. Please take the money.” So I did and we used it to buy more water.
And then one afternoon I looked out at about 3:45 and the ice chest was gone. Party over.
Monetarily, it’s no loss at all. It wasn’t a Yeti or even an Igloo; it was a generic blue-and-white plastic ice chest bought at a big box retailer 15 years ago at least. The lid was loose and it might not have been sealing so well; it might have been time to replace it. Still, the theft, as petty as it was, challenges my sense of security and what’s regarded as general decency. When you see something that is not yours, you just don’t take it. Why? Because it’s not yours.
I realize there could have been some extenuating circumstances. It could be that someone saw the “Free Water” sign and thought it meant the entire ice chest was free for the taking. It could have been someone desperate for water — perhaps a little league coach headed to the park a few blocks away who forgot to get supplies for the team. We’ve had homeless people help themselves, as I’ve said, which is perfectly fine with us, and we thought that maybe someone from that community had walked away with it since it has wheels. But our neighbors across the street have a doorbell camera, and it showed a car pause at the stop sign and block the view of the ice chest, and when the car pulled away the ice chest was gone. It was a grab and go job for sure; a cold case with no clues to follow.
We debated for less than 24 hours whether to continue the water station and decided to resume with another old ice chest. This one is smaller, doesn’t hold as many bottles, doesn’t save the ice as long, and it has a cranky lid. And we’ve done what we might have done with the first one: we’ve run a bike cable lock through the handle and chained it to the tree it sits under. I hate the optics of “distrust” that the chain adds to the scene, especially since the kids aren’t the culprits. But maybe what we’re trying to say to the grownups who so often spoil things is that “free” comes with responsibility. You can’t just ignore the rules and do whatever you wish. That’s true in all situations, but even more so when it’s a communal effort. Whoever took the ice chest didn’t just take it from us; they took it from everyone who stopped there every day and found refreshment.
As often happens with me, a song lyric comes to mind. In this case, it’s Dan Fogelberg’s “Lessons Learned” with these words: “Take as much as you think you ought to, give just as much as you can.” That’s a great thought for anyone who needs some guidance on the give and take of life. It’s followed immediately by a line for those who feel like they’ve trusted too much: “Don’t forget what your failures have taught you or else you’ll learn them all over again.”
So, with that in mind, the party is back on at our corner. The water is still cold, and it’s still free.