Besides the copier I wrote about in Part One, The Longer Part, I also took a very heavy bookcase apart and took the frame to the street. When I write "frame," I mean the enclosed top and bottom, left side and right side, of a rectangle that stood as tall as a person, made of oak or oak particle wood, and with the middle shelf unremovable and holding what I call the frame together.
It weighed a couple of hundred pounds.
With the use of a dolly, I got it out to the end of my driveway, which was my goal and the bookshelf's destination for special pickup by Seminole County's garbage and waste collection service.
That is where the bookcase fell off the dolly and onto the grass.
I thought that it might move easily across the grass when I tried to push it the few feet that were left to get it into its position, but I was wrong. The bookcase was reluctant to budge even a few inches across the grass. I am almost embarrassed to write this, but the truth is that at that exact moment, a pickup trucked pulled up into the driveway of a house across the street.
I had never seen the driver before. I have not seen him since. He must have seen me, though, in my struggle with the bookcase on the grass that resisted my best attempts to move it. He got out of the cab of his pickup truck and advanced towards me. This stranger's first words to me were "Do you need help?"
I did not learn his name, but he helped me lift that bookcase to the concrete of my driveway where it rested until it was eventually taken away by them that take away bookcases that you put out on your driveway.
This is not a long story. We are almost at the end already. But it is a good story, by which I mean a story of good. The truth is, stories of good do not have to be long. They just have to be.
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