Hero
This is what happened: a man needed a job.
He hadn’t worked for a month so he took
the civil service exam and got a job
at the Detroit zoo, way down the totem pole,
right at the bottom. He wore blue overalls
and a blue cap. He looked like a cop without
the badges and Glock. His job was to feed
the zebras, feed the giraffe, feed the bears.
The bears’ cage resembled a stone cave
without a roof. But it had a ledge about
six feet off the ground. His boss said:
Sometimes a bear likes to get on the ledge
and jump on whoever is giving him food.
It hasn’t happened much, but it’s happened.
So keep alert. The next morning the man fed
the zebras, he fed the antelopes and giraffes.
When he got to the bears’ cage, he paused.
No bears in sight. The man entered the cage
and took a step toward the feeding trough,
then he took one more. Only ten steps to go.
Still no bear. It must be waiting nearby. Soon
he heard a noise—maybe a bear, maybe a bus
on Woodward Avenue. What was his chance
of being eaten? The man’s legs were as heavy
as tombstones. He thought of home; he thought
of his wife and six kids. He wasn’t very big.
He knew what bears could do to a little guy
like him. They would gobble even his buttons.
Time passed. People looked into the cage, but
saw no bears, only a keeper standing as stiff
as a flagpole. Could he run to the trough, dump
in the food and run back? Of course he could.
But he was a thinker, that was the problem.
He had a gift for spotting nasty scenarios.
As in a movie, he could see the bear hurl itself
from the ledge. That would be just the start.
Way in the back a small black bear woke up.
He was hungry. It was way past feeding time.
The bear took a peek over the ledge. No food.
He growled. Still no food. He reared up on his
hind legs and roared like an Alaskan grizzly.
Hadn’t the man known this would happen?
He dropped the pail and ran to the bus stop.
He even forgot to change out of his uniform.
Close call, he told himself. It wasn’t exactly
courage, but it was good enough. After all,
he was alive. He began to tell people the story
of how he had escaped from a bear. With each
retelling the bear grew bigger, then it was
two bears. He showed a scar on his arm from
an old bike accident as a kid. This was where
the bear clawed him. The man had no doubt
he was telling the truth. In time, he developed
an aura of quiet strength; he spoke modestly
about being a hero. His kids looked up to him.
His wife kissed his cheek. Does it matter what
really took place? These reversals of bad luck
that fate confers on the seemingly unworthy,
they offer us hope and help us through
the dark places; they let us greet the night.