Why can’t people respect a goodwill gesture?
Last year I received this old park bench, its wood unpainted and rotting but the hardware is iron and in great shape. (It’s upside down so I could measure the
slats.) I thought I would replace the wood — easy enough, its standard 1×2 boards — and donate to my neighborhood dog park.
At the dog park people donate their dilapidated outdoor chairs for a second life at the park. Even the crappiest furniture still has life when used at the dog park, and I knew this bench would be the nicest piece of furniture out there and very much appreciated. I replaced the old boards and painted it a traditional barn red.
One day on my way to work I noticed three people standing at a bus stop. Standing. I live in a neighborhood with a lot of housing for elderly and disabled people. “Hmm,” I thought. “Yes, the dog park people would appreciate the bench, but the people in my neighborhood need the bench.”
So I gave the bench to the neighborhood bus stop. Unfortunately, about a mile down the road is a less than shining neighborhood, so when I put the bench out I locked it to a pole. That was two months ago.
I was expecting it to be stolen. I never expected this to happen to it:
I don’t know if I’ll replace the bench at the bus stop. Right now, my heart just hurts.