Remembering Gus Levine, M.D.
Part two:
by Charles C. Hall, Ed.D.

"This day before dawn I ascended a hill and look'd at the crowded heaven ..." - Walt Whitman

As promised, below is the story Gus Levine imparted to me (alone) some thirty-four years ago. He never shared it with anyone else.

"Which way you goin', Boss?"

by Gus Levine, M.D.

I was in a hurry to get wherever it was I was going one late afternoon in September several years ago. I was always in a hurry, it seems now, in retrospect. Cars, however have to be catered to -- they need gasoline to keep them going. I piled out of my car at the first service station on my way to somewhere, and practically yelled, "Fill `er up!" at the tired-looking attendant.

In my rush to get going again, I brushed past a black man, who said, "Which way you goin', Boss?" Heck, I thought, what's it any of your ---- business? But, I motioned and it happened that he needed a lift in the same direction to take some gasoline to his stalled car.

I had nothing to say to him, obsessed as I was with my own thoughts. When we reached his car, it was filled with kids of all ages and sizes, and a woman holding a baby. I thought again, `What are these people doing, messing up the world with all their kids and troubles?' There's enough problems laying around already, and they're just adding to them.

I was set to leave when a small voice said plaintively from somewhere in the small mass of children, "I'm hongry!" Other voices echoed a similar lament. It caught my attention, but I was in a hurry, you see, and I roared off, trying to turn my guilt into feelings of anger.

I must have been two miles down the road when I realized I could no longer avoid a child's haunting, `I'm hongry!' I wheeled my car around and headed back. A funny thing happened just then -- I no longer felt angry, nor pressed for time -- nor guilty. On the contrary, I was completely relieved of anxiety. Also, a refreshing glow filled me that was unexplainable.

The car and family were still in the same place. The black man was just getting the old car started again. I pulled to an easy stop behind them, got out and walked slowly to the driver's side. Small faces peered out the windows and doors at me. I was unaware of anything except my intention to share what I had to eat with this family. I asked, `Would you folks honor me by having a picnic with me? I have been to the grocer's and have some things in my car which we can spread on a picnic table up the road.'

They were as surprised as I at my invitation, but said they would.

Well, it was one of the most joyous experiences of my life. Really exhilarating. We had a good meal, the kids romped about -- one or two sitting on my lap -- after we were filled with dining. The man and woman were quite gracious, making me feel like the guest and they the hosts - - which they were. I only provided the few things to eat. But, comradship is much more than food. They were lovely people. At that moment in time and space, we were all `family.'

Upon leaving -- which was hard to do -- I asked the man if he would please accept what monies I had with me to help them on their journey. (I did this when none of the kids nor his wife were nearby.) He was reluctant, but I pressed every dollar and penny I had on me into his hand.

Then, I was gone. I sincerely believe that on that particular day, at that specific time, I was changed into a better person. I have lived more hormoniously with myself and with others since that wonderful day. I can now understand more fully an unknown poet's rendition of the following thought:

I sought my soul, I sought my God, Neither could I see.

I sought my brother

and found all three ..

My life took a remarkable turn, and started when a black man asked me, "Which way you goin', Boss?"

Gus, you were a mensch, certified and unmistakable.

So it goes . . . ..