"Hey, Jack, you're looking good today."
"Thanks, Talley, how are you feeling?"
"With my feet, Jack, with my feet..."
Now, I know that exchange may seem a little bit unusual, but Talley Sanchez was not your usual type of guy. During the Korean War, he had thrown himself on a grenade to save his buddies. His face and hands were blown off and his eyes were ripped from their sockets. However, he managed to work a tape recorder with the two hooks that had replaced his hands, and he had totally memorized the campus, knowing how many taps of his cane it took to get to each destination. (It should be noted that he fooled most of the staff into thinking the locations of the dorms confused him, and despite the shocked shrieks of the coeds who saw this man walking the halls of their dorm at all hours, no one ever thought he was at fault. "I love making those delightful mistakes," he told me once.) He became the unofficial leader of the numerous veterans who populated our campus, and students of all types often sought his counsel for advice or his company for just pure fun.
"Being blind ain't no big deal," he said. "All it does is keep you from seeing."
Many young ladies developed romantic feelings for him. Once, I saw Talley gently and kindly rebuke the romantic overtures of a starstruck freshman who was trying to carry her romantic fantasies into real life. Tally drew very close to her and his deep resonant voice said, "May I ask you something I've never asked any girl before?"
"Of course, Talley" she replied as her eyes glistened, "anything for you."
"Would you, would you...," he stammered.
"What, Talley? You don't have to be shy around me, just ask," she encouraged.
"Would you reach into my briefcase and get my oil can? My hooks are starting to squeak off key."
After a moment of silence, the two of them burst into laughter. And the now-much-wiser young lady saw life in more realistic terms and became such a close friend that she was almost like his sister.
One day, I came out of the bowling alley across the street from campus, and who did I see waiting for a streetcar, but Talley.
"Talley," I asked, "what the heck are you doing out here?"
"I'm catching the street car to Long Beach," he simply replied.
"Talley," I stated nervously, "that involves three transfers and a lot of long waits."
"I know, and now I'm so glad I don't have to go through all that," Talley replied.
"What made you change your mind," I asked.
"Well, since you're here and have decided to drive me, I don't have to take the public transportation. And to show you how much I appreciate your kindness, you don't have to buy me lunch, just a snack will do."
We laughed as we walked to my car. No one said "no" to Talley, and it wasn't out of pity, but out of respect...besides, time spent with Talley led either to enlightenment or a lot of fun and laughter.
"Where are we going? To see one of your girl friends?" I asked.
"No," he answered. "To Long Beach Veterans Hospital."
"Are you okay?" I asked, not able to hide my concern.
Talley sighed like one who was trying to exercise patience with an ignorant child. "When have you ever known me not to be better than okay? No, it's the Pity Pots."
"Pity Pots?" I asked
"Yeah, those little cry-babies who are so involved in feeling sorry for themselves about their disabilities that they don't use their abilities. Once a week, I go down and kick some tail...but I try not to cause brain damage."
We parked the car, and since I had some time, I accompanied him to the ward where he served as a volunteer. As we approached, I saw a little boy standing outside, trying not to cry. It was evident this was the first time he had seen someone he loved in pain. As we drew near, Talley stopped.
"Son, come here."
"Yessir," the boy replied.
"Who is in that ward that's causing your sadness?" Talley's voice had a tenderness I had never heard before.
"My brother. He lost both of his legs in Korea."
Talley took a deep breath, "Tell me, does he... Continue
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