Goines On: Heaven on earth

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As Goines approached Walmart’s pharmacy entrance, he saw a couple of policemen talking to entering shoppers. As he got closer, he thought he recognized one of the officers: Officer Shell had been assigned eight or ten years ago to the housing development Goines lived in, under the town’s Community Oriented Policing (COP) program.
    Officer Shell told Goines they were collecting donations of hygiene products for the town’s several hundred homeless teens. Could there really be that many in a town the size of Mebane? Goines trusted the local police, so he accepted that, indeed, there were over 500 homeless teens holing up somewhere in Mebane. Were the police also taking cash donations, he asked. “No, but you can buy something inside and donate it on the way out.”
    Goines bought a tube of toothpaste to donate, but he knew he had lots of stuff at home, in fact including an even larger tube of toothpaste, which he bought in cartons of four at Costco, not to mention toothbrushes saved up from visits to his dental hygienists, razor blades (whose humongous packages at Costco could last Goines for more than a year)….
    Goines asked Officer Shell if they’d still be there over the weekend, so he wouldn’t have to return to Walmart the same day. “We’ll be collecting at the police station all weekend.”

    At home, after lunch, Goines collected the tooth brushes and razor blades, and even a spare “handle” to attach the blades to, and he remembered all of the Neutrogena hotel soap bars he and Mrs. Goines had brought home from trips to California and Minnesota. And Mrs. Goines had some little bottles of hotel lotions, a toothbrush of her own that she didn’t need, and thought to add a bundle of washcloths (from a huge bundle purchased at Costco – where else?).
    Both of them were pleased to be able to donate something, and Goines put all of the items in a big plastic bag and drove back to Walmart. Officer Shell wasn’t there, but a tall, slender, friendly young officer took the bag through Goines’ rolled-down window and said a beautifully smiled thank-you. How could any town have a better-staffed police force?
    Over the weekend, Goines realized that he hadn’t included in the bag one of his canisters of foaming shaving gel, which he also bought in cartons of three or four from Costco. On Monday, Goines had to go to the library anyway, which was only three blocks from the police station, so he’d stop and donate the shaving gel.
    A male officer was manning the reception desk, barely visible through the heavy, dark bullet-proof window. The officer sure looked familiar, Goines thought, but he couldn't think who he looked like. The officer consulted someone else behind the glass and came out to receive the canister.
    Goines finally recognized the officer, who was about the same age as Officer Shell, early thirties. “You seem familiar to me,” Goines said, “but you seem younger than I remember, and lighter. You’re Ware!” Officer Ware smiled and nodded. Goines introduced himself. “Officer Shell was collecting stuff at Walmart on Friday. I met both of you when you were working COP.”
    Goines noticed that Officer Ware seemed weary, worn down. “Are you okay? You look awfully tired, or something.” Officer Ware said, “I just didn’t get enough sleep. We have a one-year old....”
    Goines nodded sympathetically. “Well, take care of yourself, Officer Ware. It’s so good to see you again!”
    Walking back to his car, Goines felt light and glowing. He knew the reason – it was the love he felt flowing through his being, compassion for the anonymous teenagers, for Officer Ware, for Officer Shell....
    Goines didn’t believe in a heaven somewhere “up there” beyond the rainbow or wherever, but he reckoned there was heaven on earth, and you were in it when love was coursing through you.

“Compassion Moves a World,” sculpture by Julie Rotblatt-Amrany
in Laurel Park in Highland Park, Illinois, about a dozen miles
north of Northwestern University, where Goines had
for a semester pursued a Ph.D. in Philosophy

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