JUST CALL HIM YOGI

If you thought of Yogi Bear, you thought wrong.  Yogi Bear picked up picnic baskets.  Bill is picking up trash.  In our retirement community, Wednesday is the day we have to have our trash bags out for pick up.  Needing something to do, hubby volunteered to help.  Now each Wednesday, he tosses bags of trash and recycling onto the trailer.  And now I call him Yogi.

You see, when we first moved onto the farm, there was no weekly trash pick-up.  There was Yogi.  We rented a dumpster and twice a month, Yogi would come empty it.  Yogi was a big guy.  He wore bib overalls.  He had a smile that made your day.  He always had time to talk, but he never told stories about what anyone had in their trash.  I guess his motto was “what is in the trash, stays in the trash.”

Yogi did like to tell stories on himself.  I love the one about him owing a bit of back taxes.  He said one day the sheriff showed up at his door and gave him a ride to the county jail.  Seemed like those back taxes were going to be a bit of a problem.  The IRS agent was there with formal papers and they were going to give Yogi free lodging.  The process began.

“Please empty your pockets.”  Being a gentle man, Yogi complied and I am sure he was having a good talk with the IRS agent as he reached into the first pocket.  For those of you who have never worn bib overalls, you need to know that they have more than two pockets.  There are at least seven pockets.  Yogi took items out of the first pocket.  Included with a few folded papers, there was a bit of money.  The IRS agent immediately took the money.

Yogi took items out of the second pocket, which included a bit of money.  The IRS agent also took that money.  Yogi took items out of the third pocket which included a bit—- yup —- a bit of money.  Are you getting the idea?  I am sure that by now, more than one county deputy was enjoying this show.  They all knew Yogi.  They watched, along with the county sheriff and the IRS agent, as Yogi emptied one pocket after another.  You are smiling aren’t you and you can imagine what happened next.

The IRS agent started counting the money.  When he got to the amount Yogi owed, he stopped counting and had him sign a paper.  Then Yogi started putting everything back in his pockets.  Everyone was happy.  The IRS agent had his money.  The deputies were giggling as they went back to work.  The sheriff shook Yogi’s hand and they talked for a bit.

Everyone was happy except Yogi.  No, he wasn’t upset about the money.  He was upset because the sheriff said he couldn’t give him a ride home.

One day I was in the grocery store, concentrating on my list, when someone ran into my cart.  Looking up, there stood Yogi, grinning from ear to ear.  We talked a minute and then I asked him, “Yogi, I was talking to a neighbor and found out you raised the monthly rate.  But our bill is still the same.  Why didn’t our bill go up?” He grinned even bigger and said, “Because I like you.”

And I liked Yogi.  He was honest and fair.  He loved people.  He enjoyed life.  He drove a trash truck.  And he smiled.

Now I have my own Yogi.  I wonder if I should check his bib overall pockets.

 

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At church, we have talked about people being upset because Jesus was hanging out with tax collectors, sinners, and all sorts of common people.  They would be mortified to see Jesus sit down with the trash man.  BUT, I know one thing: Jesus would have enjoyed sitting down with Yogi.  And I bet they would have talked, laughed, and smiled.