I checked my pockets, and I had enough money for a bus ticket to Thousand Oaks. I figured I'd go there, get a job and save some money, see the sights, and then be better equipped to hitch hike leisurely up the coast. I'd done that kind of thing plenty of times, so I wasn't worried.
I got to Thousand Oaks, and left the bus station. The city was odd. Well, not odd. More just very well off. Just a lot different than what I expected. There didn't seem any poor sections. I was walking about with my back pack on, wondering if I was going to be able to find a place, or if I'd sleeping outside. I was also a bit wary. The police can be a bit rough on those in the wrong neighborhood, and this whole city looked like the wrong neighborhood to my hobo self!
Walking down a random street, a pick up truck pulled over and an old man got out. He said in a thick German accent, "You have no place to stay?" I admitted that I did not, having just arrived in town. He said, "I knew you had no home, you can stay with us!" And that's how I met Ziggy and his family.
He took me home, explaining how if I liked, I could work assisting him in his job as a free lance electrician. I explained that I knew nothing of electrical work, but he said that would be okay. But that first day was just going to his house and meeting his family. I met his wife Meta, and a son of theirs about my age. That first night, I stayed in a small pull along camper that they had on the empty lot near their house.
I had dinner with them, though. And learned that they were Seventh-day Adventists, which meant it was a vegetarian meal. But good all the same! The next day, I went out with Ziggy. He swore me to secrecy, and said he'd buy me breakfast if I didn't tell anyone he was getting a Sausage Egg McMuffin. That happened to be my favorite breakfast food in all the world, so I agreed, and we talked about the dietary codes of his faith!
Ziggy and Meta had incredible stories of how they had got to America. I got to learn all of her story because she had put it all on tapes at her adult children's request and she wanted it transcribed. I was the one who got to transcribe the tapes. I still remember all her stories from when she was a little girl pre-war, to her refusing to say "Heil Hitler" in school when her Poland was took over by the Nazis, to later, her needing to escape Soviet occupied Eastern Europe.
She was such a small woman. Large spirit, but very small in stature. I still remember clearly another story she told, of being a little German girl in Poland and taking a bit of coal from the stove and putting it in a tin can, then putting a bit of potato over that, then as she went outside she'd be twirling the can around on a string so that when she got where she was going the potato was cooked!
Perhaps that is a silly story to remember, out of all my travels and all my past years, but their whole family made an real impression on me.
Ziggy also had his stories, of course. But he was far more reticent about his, though, as he'd been in the German army. Drafted, of course, but it was odd to meet such a kind man who had been on the opposite side of the very war both my grandfathers were in. My American grandfather had actually been in the army that was invading Germany, so conceivably they were near each other at some point. Life is very strange.
I remember Ziggy's sadness. From living with a man and working with him each day, you come to know his measure a bit, and never did I meet such a gentle and kind man as Ziggy. His greatest "sin" were those Sausage Egg McMuffins, and I know he felt bad about even that. But his main guilt was always that he'd been in the German army.
I assured him that no intelligent person was going to condemn him for having been conscripted. Yet he'd only get quiet and somber, and then we'd speak of cheerier subjects. His favorite being Seventh Day Adventism. I'm sorry now I did not convert then and there, I should have. Certainly he was eloquent enough - in his actions, and his family's actions, which count more than words.
I met his adult children, most who had beautiful homes of their own, very well off in an upper middle class prosperous way. And all of them unfailingly open and accepting of me, a homeless youth hitch hiking around the nation! I can assure you that such a welcome would not have been forthcoming from most "Christians"! Ask me how I would know that!
When I announced it was time for me to leave, as I never stayed in one place more than a few months tops (it would be too easy to then settle down and then my travels would be over) they said that we should sit down to discuss what was owed. I was curious, but not nervous, I knew they were good people.
So we sat down and at first they started listing out a bunch of stuff that I owed. Rent, food, travel, etc. They looked grave. I sat stone faced, as I knew that they meant me somehow to be worried, but at the same time, inside, I knew full well that there was no way they were being serious. Sure enough, they then started listing out the things I had done, the transcriptions, help around the house, assisting Ziggy at his work (mostly carrying his bag of tools) and such.
I started to get a glimmer of what they were likely up to. They wanted me to feel like I had not been a burden, and so were going to construct enough owes on either side to balance out, so I could leave not feeling bad. I was impressed when I saw where this was going, this was charity above and beyond to go to such trouble as to make it seem "not charity". I agreed, when they asked, with each thing they said.
But they went further. They pretended, when it was all added up, and with straight faces, that I still had several hundred dollars coming. I piped up at once to let them know that such was not the case in the least, but they had been too clever. As I had not disagreed with any of their previous statements, and as they had asked me each time if I understood each debit and credit, I could not plausibly argue now.
I did anyway. I didn't have the words, but I tried to get across my gratitude at their kindness, their generosity and how they'd treated me like I was as equal as any of them. They dismissed this, of course, and insisted. As the money would obviously be of enormous aid in my travels up the coast, I did relent. But it was not for them truly owing me.
It's been a quarter century and more, but I'm still in their debt as far as I'm concerned, though I would guess that they must have passed on since. They took me to church each Sabbath, though, the whole time I was there. Not as a project, not even as a guest, but as another member of their wonderful family. They are a large reason why I am an Adventist today!
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