Gabriel the Janitor

I tried to give the ticket back
But they wouldn't let me

I found it on the ground
Like in the chocolate factory movie
And I only called the lottery place
To see if they knew who it belonged to

People say I'm a chump

Maybe I am
But I wanted to do the right thing

Instead they gave me the money
Because they said
The ticket was mine

And they told me I was rich

But I didn't want to be rich

I liked my job at the school
It's not a beautiful job
But it provides
And I like the kids

I never had kids
So I like seeing the kids at school
Helping them out sometimes
With advice and whatnot

My neighbor tells me not to say that
Because she says they'll think I'm a bad man
But I don't see why

It's bad to like children now

Isn't that sad?

They made me quit my job
Because they said I didn't need it anymore
But I liked my job
But I'm not good at arguing
So I left

I used to eat lunch everyday with Mrs. Brugel
She was the teacher and my friend

I miss having lunch with her
And I miss the kids

When they asked me if I wanted my money
All at once
Or every once in awhile

I said 'All at once'

And it was less
Because when you want it all at once
You can't have all of it

That doesn't seem fair, huh?

Yeah, I know
But it's what happens

I won't say I didn't want the money
Because that would be a lie

When I was a kid
I dreamed about coming here
And making lots of money

But I thought I would work for it

I thought I would earn it
So I could be proud of myself
And have a family
And a house
That I deserved

It didn't feel right to have it sent to me in the mail

Like it was nothing

Like all that money
That so many people want
Is just nothing

I wanted the money
But once I bought myself some new clothes
And paid my rent
And put some in an account Mrs. Brugel helped me make
I didn't know what to do with the rest of it

So I gave it away

. . . . .

When I was eight years old
My mother used to make me
Send out prayers

We'd sit at the kitchen table
And write letters to people we didn't know

My grandmother would say
That my mother was crazy
And it turns out she was right

When I was thirteen my mother went into the ocean
And didn't come back out

She said she was going to look for shells
But I guess she never found them

But before that happened
We mailed our prayers

We would write 'Get well' and 'Bless you' and 'Love you'
And we would put names on them
Whatever names we could think of
And we would get stamps from stores
By sneaking them in our pockets
And nobody ever caught us
Because nobody ever thinks anybody
Would steal stamps

We would send out the prayers
Everyday

And every time we did
Our house would feel like it was full
Of good people
Who did good things

Then one day I came home
And my dad was gone

Then a few days went by
And he was still gone

Trying to remember is hard
Because before he left
All I remember
Is him being in other rooms

Out working in the yard
Working all day
Never in front of me

But I remember being angry when he left
And I remember taking all the prayers I wrote out that day
And carrying them into my room

I took the pillows out of the pillowcases
And I shoved the prayers in there
Then took them out into the yard
And buried them in a hole I dug
With a shovel and my hands

When my mother came home
From looking for him
For the third day
She asked me where they were

I told her I was keeping them
That I was keeping these prayers
Because we needed them
We needed them to get my father back

I believed in those prayers
I thought that if we gave them away
They really would get people well
And bring them luck
And put their families back together

I remember my mother's face

She had never looked like that in her life

So aware of herself
And her limitations

She sat down on my bed with me
And told me that a prayer's no good
When you keep it to yourself

She told me it was like money

You had to give it away
For it to do any good

I went back out into the yard
And I dug up those prayers
And we mailed them

. . . . .

When I got that check in the mail
I knew what I had to do

I took enough
Just what I needed
And I mailed out the rest

I didn't make up names
I looked them up in the phonebook

I guess I could have looked for people who really needed it
But who wouldn't need it?

Better to let what happens happen

I went and asked for my job back
And they gave it to me

I think they thought I lost all the money

Stupid immigrant doesn't know
How to handle money

Probably spent it on drugs

I think that's what they thought

Except Mrs. Brugel

She didn't think that

And the kids

I think they knew why I came back

. . . . .

I offered to go along a field trip
At the end of the year

Mrs. Brugel wanted to take the kids to the beach

She said it was to teach them about ocean life
But really it was just an excuse
To let them have fun
Before they moved onto fourth grade

When we got there
All the kids jumped out of the bus
And ran screaming onto the sand

I gathered them all together
And gave them each a shell

'I want you to bring throw these into the water,' I told them, 'And when you do, say a prayer for someone.'

I watched them walk up
To where the water meets the sand
And out went their shells

I saw Tony Hooper pray for Tony Mars, his friend in the wheelchair
I saw Isabella pray for Faith, whose parents are getting divorced
I saw Tony Mars pray for all the girls who have crushes on him
I saw Holly pray for the world--she thinks she's going to run it one day

And I saw Alvaro pray for Mrs. Brugel who was crying
Seeing all her kids, knowing they'd be moving on

Mrs. Brugel threw out her shell
And I saw her pray for me
It was a prayer of thanks
For a friend returned

I threw out my shell
Hoping it would reach the deepest part of the ocean
To wherever my mom was

There you go, Mom, I thought, there's every prayer you sent out

Coming right back to you