EUGENE VISITORS

While living in Eugene I had my fair share of all kinds of people knocking on my front door.   There were the usual sales people, religious disciples, law enforcement, the homeless and a few other lost souls.    

Two of the most memorable sales people was a lady selling a cleaning solution.    While she stood outside on the front porch talking of the great things this product would do for me, she noticed the stove in the kitchen with markings of grease down one side.   She asked if she could demonstrate how good this product was with removing grease.    I let her in the house where she proceeded to clean the entire stove.   After that, I felt obligated to buy a bottle of this amazing stuff.   

The next sales people were some university students selling vacuum cleaners.    They came in the small living room where there was the only rug in the house on the hardwood floor.   It was a round rug about six feet in diameter with dog hair and other elements of dust on it.    I did have a small vacuum cleaner and they asked me to use it on the rug in order to show how much better the one they had would clean it after I finished with mine.   They were right, their machine did a much better job, but for one rug it was not feasible, nor could I afford to spend more money on their machine, so they departed.    The rug never looked so clean.  

One day I had a visit by a police detective with the City of Eugene wanting know some information on a policeman that lived down the street.  He asked if I ever saw any activity during the day, such as the policeman coming home in his patrol car and if anybody was with him.    I told him I was at work most weekdays, but have noticed a patrol car there at times on weekends and few ladies coming and going.  He wrote all that down, thanked me and left.   A few weeks later I noticed the policeman moving.  

One evening two very intoxicated men came to the front door wanting some money for food.    My daughter had a night job in a bakery on Willamette Street and would bring home all kinds of left over breads and pastries in the morning.   I informed the two men I could furnish them with some fresh baked bread, knowing if I gave them any money it would be spent on more booze.   I could see the disappointment in their eyes as I handed each of them a loaf of bread.   

One of the most sad cases was on a cold, wet winter night when a young man knocked on the door wanting to use some tools to remove the engine starter on his car that was parked at a gas station on Willamette Street.   He promised to bring them back the next day.   I loaned him the tools and walked back with him to his car as he told me the people at the gas station permitted him to park his car there until he could find a new starter.   I noticed that he was living out of the car and was not going to take off any time soon.    He was trying to get to Seattle and had very little money.   The next evening he returned my tools, saying that he found a rebuilt starter after walking out to west 11th street to a parts store that had one that fit his car.    That had to have been a 5 mile walk one way from south Willamette Street.    I asked him when he had something to eat last since I had plenty of dinner for two of us.   He was very appreciative for the tools and dinner telling me I had done more for him than his own father had ever done.