Roy Exum: They Are Americans, Too

  • Thursday, February 26, 2015
  • Roy Exum
Roy Exum
Roy Exum

Roger Dean Kiser is something of a legend. Aside from being one of the best story-tellers I know of – I’ve read his works for years – the fact he came upon it honest, like Chattanooga’s Roger Allan Wade, makes him kind of special. Again, I’ve followed him for a long time.

By the time he was four, he had been abandoned by parents and grandparents alike. The state of Florida placed him in an orphanage, but, by the time he was 12, the cruelty and abuse had gotten so bad he started running away, time and time again.

Then the state placed him in a reform school where he somehow survived until he was old enough to walk free.

He is self-taught and has only a 6th-grade education but he has the heart of Hemingway. I know. I’ve read too many of his articles. So I was thrilled last week when my buddy Sandy Pohfal, a Texan who loves warm stories like I do, send me a copy of one of Roger Dean’s latest parables.

I hope the snow has you where you can’t get outside yet because this is a tale you and the rest of America desperately need to read:

* * *

The Store America Forgot

It was several weeks after 9-11 when I drove to United Community Bank. Before entering in bank parking lot I noticed that I was almost out of gas. I made a fast left and drove into a convenience store which sold gas.

I got out of my truck and began filling my tank. When full, I replaced the gas cap and walked into the store to pay what I owed. As I walked in the door I saw a young Arabic teenager staring at me with a look of fear on his face that even upset me.

"Is everything all right?" I asked him.

"Everything is fine, sir."

I walked to the counter, pulled out my wallet and paid for the gas. No one said a word. I heard something behind me and turned around. Standing in the back doorway was another Arabic man about fifty years of age. He had the same look of fear on his face.

"Is he with you?" I asked the young man, pointing toward the older gentleman.

"Yes, sir. He is my father," he replied.

"Are you sure everything is all right?" I asked him again. The boy hesitated and replied: “Not good here since the 9-11. No business at all. No one likes us anymore."

He pointed toward a large glass window which was broken and had been taped with duct tape. I watched as he reached under the counter and held up a large, red brick which he told me had been used to break the window.

Over the next few weeks I drove the few extra miles to purchase my gas at their store, as well as bread and milk. Each time I came I noticed there was less and less food items on the shelves.

"What is going on here?" I asked the father one day.

"No good business. No one will sell us product."

"Are you telling me the vendors will not sell you food?"

"No more gas for us after today the gas company say," replied the young boy.

I don't know what came over me at that moment, but I was so embarrassed. It was the first time in my life that felt ashamed of America.

"Where are you from?"

"I was born here. I am an American," said the young boy, as he came from behind the counter, took me by the arm and led me over to several papers taped to the wall. I looked as he pointed at a birth certificate and a hand written sign that read: "We are Americans and we love America. This is our home."

Without saying a word, I walked over to the large broken window and place both my hands on the glass. I stood there looking out at the America I had always know as a kind, honest, friendly, caring and forgiving country. Almost in tears and too embarrassed to turn around, I said, "I'm so sorry and I apologize."

I walked out of the store and returned to my home in America. Several days later when I drove to the bank, I looked at the Amoco Station as I drove out of the bank parking lot. There was a "CLOSED" sign taped to the large broken window.

These two Americans were even courteous enough to tell their customers that they were now "CLOSED," even though they had been run out of town.

* * *

As you might sense, Roger Dean Kiser knows about life and pain and suffering. He also knows because of the afore-mentioned emotions that joy, happiness and laughter matter much more than we think they do. To read more of his stories, you can go to his website http://www.rogerdeankiser.com and order a copy of "The Life and Times of Roger Dean Kiser" If you are lucky he’ll autograph it because he is an American who matters, just like we all do.

royexum@aol.com

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