"My name's Raymond. I'm 73. I work the parking lot at St. Joseph's Hospital. Minimum wage, orange vest, a whistle I barely use. Most people don't even look at me. I'm just the old man waving cars into spaces.
But I see everything.
Like the black sedan that circled the lot every morning at 6 a.m. for three weeks. Young man driving, grandmother in the passenger seat. Chemotherapy, I figured. He'd drop her at the entrance, then spend 20 minutes hunting for parking, missing her appointments.
One morning, I stopped him. "What time tomorrow?"
"6:15," he said, confused.
"Space A-7 will be empty. I'll save it."
He blinked. "You... you can do that?"
"I can now," I said.
Next morning, I stood in A-7, holding my ground as cars circled angrily. When his sedan pulled up, I moved. He rolled down his window, speechless. "Why?"
"Because she needs you in there with her," I said. "Not out here stressing."
He cried. Right there in the parking lot.
Word spread quietly. A father with a sick baby asked if I could help. A woman visiting her dying husband. I started arriving at 5 a.m., notebook in hand, tracking who needed what. Saved spots became sacred. People stopped honking. They waited. Because they knew someone else was fighting something bigger than traffic.
But here's what changed everything, A businessman in a Mercedes screamed at me one morning. "I'm not sick! I need that spot for a meeting!"
"Then walk," I said calmly. "That space is for someone whose hands are shaking too hard to grip a steering wheel."
He sped off, furious. But a woman behind him got out of her car and hugged me. "My son has leukemia," she sobbed. "Thank you for seeing us."
The hospital tried to stop me. "Liability issues," they said. But then families started writing letters. Dozens. "Raymond made the worst days bearable." "He gave us one less thing to break over."
Last month, they made it official. "Reserved Parking for Families in Crisis." Ten spots, marked with blue signs. And they asked me to manage it.
But the best part? A man I'd helped two years ago, his mother survived, came back. He's a carpenter. Built a small wooden box, mounted it by the reserved spaces. Inside? Prayer cards, tissues, breath mints, and a note,
"Take what you need. You're not alone. -Raymond & Friends"
People leave things now. Granola bars. Phone chargers. Yesterday, someone left a hand-knitted blanket.
I'm 73. I direct traffic in a hospital parking lot. But I've learned this: Healing doesn't just happen in operating rooms. Sometimes it starts in a parking space. When someone says, "I see your crisis. Let me carry this one small piece."
So pay attention. At the grocery checkout, the coffee line, wherever you are. Someone's drowning in the little things while fighting the big ones.
Hold a door. Save a spot. Carry the weight no one else sees.
It's not glamorous. But it's everything."
Let this story reach more hearts....
Credit: Mary Nelson
This is powerful.
The Atlanta Falcons forfeited a snap, ending the down with a prayer in their preseason game vs Detroit, after Lions safety Morice Norris was stretched off after a serious head injury.
This is devastating..
Jim had friendships with a lot of his former players.. I was lucky to be one of them.
Playing for a team that Mr Irsay ran was an honor. He was funny, brilliant, unique, and somehow still wildly relatable for a man who became the sole owner of an NFL team at the age of 37.. and before that, hired as the youngest general manager in the history of the league as a 24 year old.
He battled his demons, as we all do but, God blessed Jim Irsay with an abundance of compassion.. he wanted to give back/help everybody and everything he saw or knew about… putting a list together of all of the causes/things/people that he’s given to would be an impossible task.. probably well over $100,000,000.. there was even a whale about to get an assist from Jim at one point.
The 1st time he and I really had an extended convo was at training camp after the lockout in 2011.. players and front office weren’t allowed to communicate with each other during the lockout but, Jim followed me on Twitter throughout the CBA negotiations.. his first day at training camp, immediately after the lockout ended, he drove his golf cart over to where I was and started firing off questions about Twitter.. He enjoyed the thought of being able to connect with Colts fans all over the world.. he appreciated the opportunity to be able to share some of his thoughts in his own way.. and he absolutely LOVED the idea of being able to give money/experiences/tickets/etc. away to people on Twitter.
He was a mogul who had a creative artist’s brain.. Everything he did he wanted to do in a big and imaginative way.. his Twitter Giveaways became just that.. he wanted them to be awesome... and they were. He was a Billionaire who yearned to share his wealth in fun ways.
Anybody that met him would say that he seemingly woke up everyday wanting to help people.. life got in the way sometimes but, anybody who actually knew him, loved him.
A true anomaly.
When I decided to retire.. he and I had a 2.5 hour conversation in his office. He was sitting at his desk.. hitting the shit out of his vape .. and we talked about everything I was hoping to go do.
He tried to stop me for a few minutes.. even offered to renegotiate my contract.. and then once he realized my decision was made.. the convo turned into him trying to give me as much game as possible about running a business and maintaining authenticity. He gave me quotes and words to live by.. told me stories of mistakes he and others had made and he promised he would do anything he could to help me in my venture.
“If for some reason this doesn’t work or you don’t want to do it anymore, you’ll always have a job here at the Colts. You are family.”
Since that day.. Jim has done everything he can to help me succeed.. He’d join our show anytime I asked, no matter where he was in the world.. He’d send me motivational messages when he heard I was going thru something.. he’d forward articles that he’d come across that he thought I should read.. He’d answer any question I had about decisions I had to make.. and he even offered up his connections if I wanted to “buy that lovely wife of yours something nice brother”
Jim was a real one.. and we will all miss the shit out of him.
I send my positive prayers and vibes to his daughters, his grandkids, his loved ones, his staff, and everybody who has been working with Jim for the last 40 years.
Thank you for EVERYTHING big man.. You were a damn legend.
Rest Easy, brother.
Going home from work tonight and this cop on a motorcycle with an IU helmet pulls out in front of me to stop traffic. Got a front row view for the team police escort send off. LFGGGG!!!!!! This got me so hype. Feels like a good omen. #IUFB#NeverDaunted
It is so good to be back in the saddle, flying again in just 9 weeks.
By the grace of:
God,
Family,
Good friends
And an incredible @UWHealth surgical team (4 hrs on pump, CABG x 5)