Backstage at the Vinyl Cafe - Stealing - Sam Steals & Emil

Episode Date: March 14, 2025

“Crimestoppers. It’s synonymous.” We’ve got two of Stuart’s older stories on today’s episode. One from the very early days of the show; it’s one you may not have heard before. These two stories are both about…stealing! But, as Jess observes, they’re also about parenting, and love, and respect. And they’re both hilarious! Hosted on Acast. See acast.com/privacy for more information.

My accountant called me the other day. I always look forward to hearing from him. I know, I know. I also like going to the dentist, so that says a lot about me. Anyway, he was calling about what else? Tax season. He wanted to tell me there are all kinds of tax benefits

and credits out there that I might be eligible for. There are things you might be eligible for too. Things like the Canada Workers' Benefit, Disability Tax Credit, the Canada Child Benefit, and the GST HST Credit. Money that might help with the bills or maybe just make life easier. For instance, the Disability Tax Credit

provides a tax credit for people with disabilities or their supporting family member. The tax credit lowers the amount of income tax they may owe when they do their taxes every year. Eligible individuals can claim up to $9,872 with an additional $5,758 for those under 18. Every dollar counts. Find out if you're eligible at Canada.ca slash every dollar counts. The originator of this message is the government of Canada.

From the Apostrophe Podcast Network. Hello, I'm Jess Milton and this is Backstage at the Vinyl Cafe. Welcome. A couple of weeks ago, we were all about deception. And this week, it's two stories about stealing. Is anyone else starting to feel a bit concerned? I mean, does it feel like the Vinyl Cafe is taking a bit of a turn? Don't worry, I promise you're in safe hands. As Stuart used to say, everything works out in the end, and if it hasn't worked out yet, it's just not the end. Let's start with this story. This is Stuart McLean with Sam Steeles. Morley, who rarely gets sick,

Morley, who hasn't been sick for years, was sitting in a budget meeting at the theater company where she works, about to get sick. Morley, who hasn't been sick for years, was sitting in a budget meeting at the theatre company where she works, about to get sick. Drew, the creative director, was going on and on about the look of the next year's brochure. It's a branding thing, Drew was saying, over and over. And Morley, who had skipped breakfast and had only had an oatmeal cookie for lunch, wasn't paying attention to Drew. Morley was thinking about a little French patisserie down the street, a place where they make chocolate croissant with a hunk of chocolate stuck right in the middle. Drew was going on and on about branding and Morley was so lost in chocolate longing that

she didn't notice the sneeze until it exploded out of her. A sneeze so raw and dramatic, so percussive and impolite that no one at the table said, bless you. Morley, who was so lost in chocolate that she was as surprised as everyone, looked up and saw that everyone was staring at her. Excuse me, she said, putting the emphasis on the me. Her nose began to run an hour later. There is not much of anything you can do to cure a cold, but with the right drugs you

can do a lot for the symptoms. Morley stopped at Lawler's Drugs on the way home. This might help, said Doug Lawler, and it won't make you drowsy. Thanks, said Morley, but Morley was thinking if she was going to take drugs, she wanted the ones that made you drowsy. Thanks said Morley but Morley was thinking if she was going to take drugs she wanted the ones that made you drowsy. She wanted something that came with a warning about operating heavy equipment and then she remembered that they needed toothpaste and then she thought maybe shampoo too or was it conditioner and so she got both and then she stopped in front of the toothbrushes,

and before long Morley had an arm full of stuff. And that is when her son Sam came wheeling around the aisle and almost ran into her. Sam had come into Lawler's to buy gum, which he wasn't supposed to have now that he had braces on his teeth. Sam, who had braces in his mouth and a pack of juicy fruit in his fist, wheeled around the rack of thermometers and spotted his mother just in time. Holy, he said, backpedaling around the aisle, out of sight, thinking as he did, holy. Better ditch the juicy fruit and bail. Trying to figure out what he should say if his mother spotted him anyway, and that is

when he looked up and spotted her himself in the convex security mirror at the end of the aisle. Except she looked different in the mirror. She didn't look like his mom at all in the mirror. And in that moment Sam's heart, which had been saying, get going, keep moving, lost contact with his feet, and Sam stopped and stared. He had never come across his mother like this before in a public place without her knowing, and he tried to understand why she looked so different. It only took a second for him to realize it wasn't her, it was the look on her face—a look he had seen before but never on his mother. He had seen it on other women like Mrs. Cassidy, the school principal, and

that woman who worked at the sub shop who was always rude to him, and Alexander's mother. Alexander's mother looked like this often. Sam felt a wave of emotion wash over him. He didn't know what it was at first, just that he was feeling something big, and then he recognized it as shock. Sam was feeling shocked because he worked out what looked different about his mom. His mom looked unhappy and he wanted to get out of there. He wanted to drop the gum and run but he was mesmerized and he couldn't run. And that was the moment Sam standing there watching his mother in the security mirror, Morley frustrated and tired and beginning to ache all over. That was the moment when Morley, whose hands were

full of boxes and bottles, toothpaste and shampoo and a cold medicine strong enough to knock out a trucker, that was the moment that Morley remembered they were out of toilet paper. The moment she thought, I need a shopping cart, the moment she began to look around to see if there was one at hand, there wasn't. Morley was looking for a cart for anything to unload or armload, but to Sam it looked as if she was checking to see if anyone was watching her. So Sam, who was, had shrunk back against the shelves, though he didn't take his eyes off the mirror, not for a moment. And what he witnessed

next was so outrageous, so beyond the possible, that Sam didn't believe it at first. Because right in front of his eyes, his mother, his sweet, wonderful, unhappy mother, took the bottle of shampoo and slipped it into her coat pocket. Hey, thought Sam, squinting. She didn't just do that. But then she slipped the toothpaste and the toothbrush and the conditioner and the cold pills into her pocket, too. Hey, said Sam. It was like watching one of those video surveillance cameras on a cop show.

It was like the end of the world. His mother was a thief. Hey, said Sam. And then Morley leaned forward and she picked up the pack of toilet paper. Not toilet paper, said Sam. He said this out loud. It's too big, they'll catch you. And Sam wasn't going to stick around for that. Sam wasn't going to be standing by the front door of Lawler's when the alarm went off and the police came and they took his mother away. Sam took off.

So Sam never saw his mother empty her pockets of the cash. Sam never saw him morally pay for everything, because Sam was long gone by then. He could barely look at her at supper. He ate quickly and when he finished he said, excuse me, and then he stood up and he carried his plate to the sink and when he was halfway there his father said, I got a whole box of chess records today. First Canadian pressings, Howling Wolf, everything. I got a Howling Wolf album today, it was sealed still. Sounds like you got a good deal, said his mother, who seemed jittery to Sam. She was

fiddling with her hair. Good deal, said his dad. It was a steal. Sam dropped his plate. It smashed on the tiled floor, shards of shiner ricocheting off the cabinets. He was living in a den of thieves. He swept up the pieces of broken plate. Don't worry, said his mother. She was holding the dustpan while he chased the last line of dust. Don't worry, said his mother. There's more where that came from. Sam went to bed early. He felt scared.

He felt like a moron. Before bed, Sam had slipped into his sister's room and had gone through her cupboard and he'd gone through her drawers. And in the drawer of her bed table alone, he had found 17 different types of lip gloss. No one in their right mind needed 17 different kinds of lip gloss. Certainly no one would ever buy that many. The whole family was in on it. What had he been thinking all these years?

It had been happening right under his nose, and he hadn't noticed a thing. He was a fool. His father owned a secondhand record store. Duh. Where did he think his father got all those used records? And the annual yard sale. Where did all that stuff come from? Sam had never seen half the things his parents hauled out onto the front lawn to sell.

He hit the pillow beside him. What a dope, he thought. All these years, Sam had thought his mom was just his mom. He thought he knew her better than anyone in the world. It never occurred to Sam that his mother did things when he wasn't around. He thought that she worked like his own personal stereo set. He'd always assume someone pressed pause when he wasn't in the room. Play when he came home. He punched the pillow again, he was a moron. He didn't know anything. His mother had more roles in the world

than he had ever imagined. And one of them apparently was master criminal. He lay in the darkness. Maybe he didn't know anything about anything. And his head started to spin. He got up to get a drink, and it was only when he caught his reflection in the mirror in the bathroom that another thought occurred to him, a darker thought. How come his parents had brought his sister in on the family business and left him out?

There was obviously something wrong with him. In his heart he knew what he should do. He should make his mother return what she had taken. She should have to hand it over and say she was sorry and promise she'd never do it again. That would cure her. That's what happened to Sam when Aaron White's mother had found a pack of Ganong's chocolates under Aaron's bed.

And Aaron had squealed and Sam's father, Dave, had come into Sam's bedroom bedroom and said, you know I'm really in the mood for a peppermint cream. You don't happen to know where a fella could get his hands on one at this time of night do you hey? Sam hadn't even stolen the candies. Aaron White had stolen them but they were hidden in Sam's desk and Sam had had to get out of bed and go to his desk and produce the box of peppermint creams and they made him take it back. But Sam couldn't bear the thought of turning his own mother in. What if they took her to jail? He told Murphy the next day at school, recess.

I saw my mother's steel, said Sam. I'm not surprised," said Murphy. Mothers go through difficult stages from time to time. I've seen it before. Your mom? Said Sam. Yeah, said Murphy. Stealing?

Said Sam. No, said Murphy. My mom did yoga. What do you think I should do? Said Sam. You could black should do?" said Sam. You could blackmail her, said Murphy. You could get all sorts of stuff. At lunch Murphy had another idea.

Crime stoppers, he said. It's synonymous. They decided to call from a phone booth. That way the call couldn't be traced. The guy who answered sounded like their gym teacher. Sam said, Someone I know is shoplifting. Is this one incident or many? asked the man. I saw one, said Sam, but I think it happens all the time.

You saw one, said the man but I think it happens all the time. You saw one," said the man, and that makes you a material witness. Sam said, I want to remain synonymous. Murphy was punching his shoulder. Ask if there's a reward, said Murphy. Ask if there's a reward. Are you prepared to make a statement? Sam's head was spinning. It's my mother, said Sam.

Your mother, said the man. Is she a kleptomaniac? No, I think she's from Scarborough, said Sam. I mean, is she always stealing? Maybe said Sam, and my dad and my sister too. It felt good to say it out loud. This is different said the man. Your mother could end up with a criminal record if the police are involved. That's not nice.

But if you don't do anything, she's going to get caught one day. What should I do? whispered Sam. Listen, this is Crimestopper, said the man. This isn't counseling service. You should phone the police and tell them about your mother. Ask them what you should do. They're agencies. She probably needs professional help. By the time he got home from school, Sam felt sick. There was no way he was going to phone the cops. No way he was going to rat out his mother. If he did, it would just prove that his parents had been right not to trust him. It was while they were eating supper that Sam decided he had to do the right thing. He had to prove he was worthy of being their

son. He would go to Lawler's. He'd go along and he would make them proud. He'd steal something. When dinner was over, Sam put on his coat and his boots and his hat and he headed off into the night. He was terrified. He was excited. He felt scared. He felt alive. And he felt very grown up, very grown up. He would remember this night forever. It was his first crime. When he got to Lawler, Sam walked up and down the aisles, past the razors and the soap, past the vitamins and the magazines and the jars and lotions, and he realized there was one major flaw in his plan. He had no plan. He had no idea what he was going to steal. Then he saw the beauty counter,

and he knew what he wanted to take. He wanted to take lipstick for his mother. She'd like that. He imagined bringing it home. He imagined calling his mom and dad into the kitchen. He imagined holding out the tube of lipstick in the palm of his hands. I stole it, he'd say. And they'd be so proud of him. They would say they'd been dreaming of this day all their lives. They would hug him and then they would tell him everything. They would start taking him on jobs and he'd be really good at it.

And one night he'd be in the car with his dad and they'd be driving home after hitting a bank or something. And his dad would say, we never did anything this big before you. I don't know how we got along without you. Sam picked up the tube closest to him and he took off the cap. It was an electric shade of red. So bright Sam blinked it reminded him of the light on top of a police car. He put it back quickly. The next tube was a deeper shade of red, a dark reddish brown that reminded him of dried blood.

He picked up a third tube and so he was holding two tubes, the dried blood and the one called forbidden passion. He put them down. Who was he fooling? He couldn't steal. Even if his family were hardened criminals, he wasn't. And Sam went home empty-handed. And on the long empty-handed walk home he tried to figure things out. The whole thing was too complicated to see clearly, too messed up. He walked the long way. He went in the arena and put a quarter in the machine in the lobby and got a handful of M&Ms. That helped. And he decided if he couldn't do the best thing, at least he could prevent the worst. The worst thing would be for his mother to get arrested. When he got home, everything seemed so normal. His dad was playing solitaire on the computer. His mom was lying

on the couch with a box of Kleenex. Sam took off his boots and hung his hat on a hook by the door. He went into the kitchen and poured some juice and drank it. He went into the living room and crawled up onto the sofa with his mom. She tousled his hair like she did in the morning before he left for school. Who would do that if she went to jail? Who would wake him with a kiss? Who would tell him to watch out for traffic? Sam had to buy some time, at least until he could handle all that stuff by himself. He had to round up the stuff his mother had stolen and he had to return it to Lawler's.

And he'd have to do it without anyone knowing. Easier said than none. He ran home from school the next afternoon. He figured he had an hour. He figured that would be more than enough time. But once Sam began to scour the house, everything began to look dubious to him. The new DVD player, for instance. P pair of jeans David brought home on the weekend. The scatter rug in the hall. Arthur's new leash. A bag of salt and pepper potato chips. The toaster. And then a horrifying thought. The very clothes that he was wearing. Of course, that was the afternoon his father came home early and there was Sam halfway up the stairs on his way to his bedroom with a toaster under his arm wearing nothing but his Batman underwear.

Try to explain that to your father. And his room was stuffed with stuff. Give your head a shake he said to himself when he had finally gotten rid of his father. Told him it was a science experiment. This is ridiculous, he told himself. He had to reduce the loot to the least common denominator. He returned everything to its place except for the six small items he saw his mother put in her pocket of lullers. The problem was everything had been already used. If Sam was going to get the stuff back on the shelves, he was going

to have to make everything look new again. The lip gloss was the smallest, so he began with the lip gloss. He came in a miniature tub with a screw lid. The tub seemed to be full, but the surface bore the tell-tale sign of his mother's fingerprints. He needed to smooth it off. He touched it tentatively with his own finger, but that only made it worse. So he tried again, this time wearing a yellow rubber glove he found under the bathroom sink. The glove made his finger too big. He tried to obliterate his fingerprints by wrapping his finger in Saran wrap. That didn't work either. The lip gloss was lime green. Finally Sam took a tube of Stephanie's hair gel and filled

the tub of lip gloss to the brim and smoothed it off like plaster with a knife. It looked a bit full but it didn't look used. He topped off the shampoo with dish soap. The conditioner with some of his mother's hand cream. The tube of toothpaste was easy. He put his lips around the opening and blew into it. And popped right back into shape. He found the cardboard box in the bathroom garbage and he used super glue from his father's work bench to glue it shut.

He rinsed the toothbrush off and recovered its box and he sealed it up too, forgetting to dry the brush off and doing such a good job resealing the container that the toothbrush stayed damp for the three days it hung on the rack at Lawler's. Was still damp and tasting vaguely a toothpaste when Greta Loebier bought it and brought it home and stuck it in her mouth. The toothbrush was the last thing that Sam got back onto the racks. Doug Lawler, who thought Sam seemed peculiar moving around the store the way he was, had his eye on him, and finally he asked

Sam to show him what he had in his bulging pockets. And of course, Sam had no receipts, no receipts for what he had in his pockets, and what could he say? He couldn't tell Doug Lawler he was returning stuff. Doug made him empty his pockets, and Sam lined up the toothpaste and the shampoo and the conditioner and the lip gloss on Doug's desk one by one. And he started to cry, of course, and Doug didn't know what to do with him. He liked Sam. And damned if he didn't start to get teary himself when he asked Sam if he was ever going to steal again. And in a very small voice, Sam said, no. Instead of phoning the police, Doug Lawler phoned Morley. We have a bit of a problem, he said. When Morley got there, Doug left the two of them alone, and Sam told her everything.

I never stole anything, he said. I was putting it back. When Morley finally understood, she reached out and pulled Sam to her. I was wondering what was bothering you. Sam said, oh I've never stole anything either you know said Morley. Never said Sam? Never said Morley. But I think a lot of people do maybe just once or twice. Why said Sam? I don't know said Morley. Maybe because they're feeling sad. Maybe because they think no one loves them and they deserve to or something. I think your dad took some things when he was a boy.

We'll ask him at supper. He'll tell you about his life a crime. On the way out of the store, Morley saw Doug Lawler and she stopped to tell him what had happened. But Sam didn't notice her stop and he kept walking past the vitamins and the cold medicines and past the paper towels and the toilet paper where Morley had been standing when he spotted her. And when Sam realized he was walking alone, he stopped and he looked around.

And when he couldn't see his mother anymore, he felt a rush of anxiety. But then, just like the first time, he spotted her in the big mirror at the end of the aisle. Except this time she was walking towards him. And this time he felt a wave of relief when he saw her. It was perfect. Part of him wanted to keep her in this view forever, where he could see her and she couldn't see him. To have his mother hovering over him the way she was hovering now in the mirror there but not quite there so he could see her whenever he needed to. Thank you very much. That was Sam Steele's. That was recorded in Brantford, Ontario back in 2004. Crime stoppers.

It's synonymous. Stuart gave Murphy the best lines. And I love that part at the end where Sam looks around and can't see Morley and feels a slight panic until he sees her again. And I'm quoting here, and part of him wanted to keep her in this view forever where he could see her and she couldn't see him. There, but not quite there, so he could see her whenever he needed to. So perfect. I think about that idea often,

how parenting is a strange mix of letting go, but also of being present enough and supportive enough that the kids themselves can let go. A mix of flying and keeping grounded. Stewart captured that idea so beautifully at the end of that story. We're going to take a short break now, but we'll be back in a couple of minutes, so stick around. You know that one piece of jewelry that works with everything?

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Welcome back. Time for our second story now. This is a story from way, way back, from back in 1997. This is the story, A Meal. Gardening became so popular this summer that even the criminals got into it. I don't believe it said Morley standing on her front lawn waving at her garden. They took two ornamental cabbage, my hens and chickens and the smoke bush. Whoever they was had made off with entire plants, roots and all. That night Morley said I'm going to get them. It took her three weeks. She got lucky one night.

She woke up. It was 3.15 in the morning, and she couldn't get back to sleep. So she got out of bed, and she went to the window, and she looked across the street, and someone was on their hands and knees in the Schellenberger's garden. And it wasn't Betty Schellenberger. Now when you apprehend a

crime in process in the middle of the night the only thing to do is to phone the police unless of course instead of the hands of reason you're in the hands of the primal gland that controls the more satisfying emotions like rage and revenge. If you listen to the gland of revenge, you put on your robe and one of your socks and one of your husband's socks, and you go out onto the street in your mismatched socks, across the street in your mismatched socks and your frayed robe that you'd never wear outside ordinarily. You go into your neighbor's yard and that's what Morley did, stormed into the Schellenberger's garden and saw on his hands and knees a man digging up Betty Schellenberger's gold-flame

spirea. The man must have sensed he was being watched because without warning he whirled around, gasped and stood up all at once. He looked frighteningly like Rasputin, bearded and dirty, wild and crazy. He took a step towards Morley and Morley stood her to ground and said, hello, Emil, I see you're doing some gardening. The man, Emil, began breathing rapidly, panting almost, wringing his hands as if he were washing them.

I'm going away, he panted. I am going to Greece, he said. Have you ever been to Greece? They have castles there. I'm going on a charter flight, but it'll be safe because they don't line the planes with lead anymore. Before the rays got you, you know, and you got cancer. Did you know that? Did you know that? Morley met Emil three years ago. He showed up one morning in front of her husband's record store wearing a pair of ripped pants and slippers and stood on the sidewalk for three weeks. He's making me crazy, said Dave. He's driving away business. He's not driving away business, said Morley. I've asked him to go somewhere else,

said Dave, but he's back every day. He can't just stand around on the street like that. Morley looked at her husband carefully. Why not? she said. Amelia appeared at a bad time had appeared only a week after the notorious flick lady had disappeared from the neighborhood. The flick lady had been driving Dave crazy for two months. She appeared first in Woodsworth's bookstore, marched in one day, out of the blue, went directly to the political section, flicked the picture of Brian Mulrooney on the cover of each copy of On the Take. snapping her finger on his nose and making her disgust clear with each flick. Yeah, yeah. And then she walked out of the store without saying anything else. She did this every afternoon, usually between two and three. Dave tried to

convince Dorothy, who owns Woodsworth's, that the Flick lady was harmless and probably politically sophisticated. Held this position until she included the vinyl cafe in her afternoon rounds. For three months the Flick lady came into Dave's record store and went to the Patula Clark collection, held an album up to her chest and sang a tune-less rendition of Downtown. After three months of these daily visits, she stopped as mysteriously as she had started, disappeared, but now there was this man standing in front of his store like a rain cloud. One morning at breakfast Morley said, what's his name? Dave said,

whose name? And Morley said, the man on the sidewalk with the pants, what's his name? And Dave said, I have no idea. And Morley said, how can you talk to him if you don't know his name, Dave? You should introduce yourself. And that's how Morley came to know the name of the man in the Schellenberger's garden, Emil. After Dave had introduced himself, Emil had moved across the street, and for the past two years he has sat in the stairwell next door to the heart of Christ religious

supplies and fax services. The stairwell has become his place in the world and slowly he has become part of Dave and Morley's world too. They don't know where he sleeps but they know before he sleeps he goes to the Beaver Electronic Store on Yonge Street and watches television on the set in the store window. He owns a universal remote control and he can change the channels And raise the volume loud enough so we can hear it through the store window The first time Morley gave a meal money she gave him five dollars and a meal said that's too much

And he gave her two dollars change Other times he wouldn't take her money. I don't need it, he'd say. I have enough. I have enough. Sometimes he was too agitated to speak. Morley would see Emil and he would be staring at his feet, talking to himself. One day about a year ago, Emil showed up at the Vinyl Cafe with a shopping cart full of books.

They were old library books he had bought for 25 cents each at a library sale. Math texts, novels by unknown authors, books of language instruction, romances. If you want to take out a book said Emile, you have to take out a membership. Dave said how much? How much is a membership in your library Emile? And Emile said, don't? How much is a membership in your library, Emil? And Emil said, don't be crazy, Dave. Everyone knows membership in a library is free. He said it patiently, as if he were talking to a child. So Dave filled out his name and address on a piece of paper

and became a member in Emil's library. And he picked three books out of the shopping carts. And Emil said, you can't take more than two books out at once, Dave. Dave put the books in a drawer under the counter, or thought he did. Forgot about them for a month until Emil appeared one morning and said, Did you know your books are overdue? You owe five dollars in fines, Dave. Dave said he was still reading the books and would pay the fines when he finished them. He said, come back in a few days, and he spent a few days looking for the novel,

which he couldn't find, and Emil came back two more times and told him the fine was up to $7 and then to $10 and then just like Dave had hoped seemed to have forgotten about the books and the fines. Dave doesn't believe in giving Emil money. He's argued with Morley about this. It's crazy he says. If he gets money he buys cigarettes and lottery. And I'm sure he loses the tickets. Why would you give someone money so they could throw it away on lottery tickets? Now Morley doesn't have an answer to this.

I don't care what he does with the money, she said. He doesn't take it if he doesn't need it, she said. Sometimes he won't take it. That's crazy, said Dave. Everybody needs money. And that's why Morley felt so betrayed last month as she stood on the Schellenberger's lawn at 3.15 in the morning that of all people it would be Emil standing there with a Schellenberger's gold flame Spirea in her hands. But instead of getting angry she said, is that for your garden,

Emil? And Emil said, did you know the moon is a hotbed of hostile alien activity? And Morley said, Emil, I want to see your garden. Will you show me your garden tomorrow? And Emil said yes. And Morley said good night and went back to bed. And she went the next day at lunch to the stairwell beside the heart of Christ religious supplies and fact services and said I've come to see your garden, Emil. And Emil said there. He was pointing to one of the large concrete boxes that lined Bloor Street, and sure enough nestled around the skinny trunk of the ginkgo tree that the city had planted and occasionally watered were Morley's hens and chickens.

And Morley went home that night and at supper she told everyone what had happened to her plants and she said, what would you do about that? And Sam said, call the police, call the police and send him to jail, he stole. And Stephanie said just take the plants back. And Dave said what did you do? And Morley said the ornamental cabbage have aphids. I took him stuff for the aphids. The garden, however, is not the biggest thing that happened to Emil this summer. The biggest thing that happened to Emil happened on the last Saturday of July. On the last Saturday of July, Emil won the lottery. Not the big prize, but big enough,

he won 10,000 bucks. And on the Monday following the last Saturday of July, Emile collected his check and took it to the bank and had it cashed, $10,000 and $20 bills. And he stood on the street in front of the Heart of Christ Religious Supplies and Fact Services, and he gave $7,000 away. Actually, he misplaced $2,500 somewhere, so he gave away $4,500 because he had $3,050 left at the end of the day. He gave more than $500 because he didn't just give the money away to anyone who walked by.

He gave it to his regulars, to the people who regularly gave him money or regularly stopped to talk to him. And he gave it to them in a way that made it impossible for them to refuse. It would have been patronizing not to take it, said Morley. It would have been an insult, so I took it. But I know what I'm going to do with it. What are you going to do with it? said Dave.

I'm going to give it back to him, said Morley, bit by bit. It'll just go to the lottery, said Dave. So what? said Morley. It's his money. As soon as Morley had left, Dave went across the street himself to see Emil. To see what was happening. Pretty sure Emil would offer him money. After all, he knew him longer than anyone. He said,

congratulations, Emil. I hear you're a big winner. When do I get my share? He meant it as a joke, but Emil took him seriously. No share for you, Dave. You still owe your library fine. Dave and Morley aren't sure what happened to the money Emile didn't give away. They know he had a haircut and a shave. He looked great for a week. So great, Dave almost didn't recognize him the first time he saw him. And he bought himself a portable, battery-powered television and a chair. And all August he sat on the

chair in his stairwell and watched his television. The chair was eventually stolen and he lost the television somewhere or someone took it away from him or something or maybe he gave it away. It's okay he said when Morley asked him about it the battery was going and it only got Canadian channels you can't get cable on those small sets. So it's all gone now. Or it's not all gone, because Morley still has $425 that belongs to a meal. She keeps it in a glass in the kitchen in the back of the cupboard behind the canned soups. She's already given him $40 in cash, and she bought some feverfew, a plant that looks like a daisy and she gave

it to him to plant in his box. It's a herb that people say can cure fevers. A pretty little plant and the leaves smell good when you work around them and best of all it seeds itself which means it'll grow again next summer. Tough little thing. But you need to be tough to live in a concrete box all winter along along with the Coke bottles and the straws. And the fever few is tough enough for that and not without dignity. And last weekend when she was grocery shopping, Morley spent another five dollars. She bought a box of grape hyacinth bulbs and she planted them one night last week when Emile had left for the night, thinking as she scraped at the hard dirt in Emile's box that they'll come in the spring and they'll surprise him.

Thinking about something she had read by Rohinton Mystery, something about that fine line between compassion and foolishness, kindness and weakness, wondering always about how firm to stand, how much to bend. That was the story we call A Meal. We recorded that in 1997, the very first full season of The Vinyl Cafe. Hi everybody, it's jungle Jim Jerome and I'm super excited to tell you that Inside Curling is back with Canadian and world curling hall of famers Kevin Martin and Warren Hanson. I'm Kevin Martin and this curling season we will be bringing you our ever popular weekly show along with special coverage from Canadian championships, World Championships and of course the Grand Slam of Curling. I'm Warren Hanson. Our weekly show will bring you five popular segments.

What's happening around the curling world, hot rock topics, mailbag, what are you hearing and in the house. First show of this season will be coming at you September 16th. Look out here we come! Alright, that's it for today, but we'll be back here next week with another David Morley story. David Morley But if you wanted to choose one day out of the whole year and count on finding Dave with his nose in a book, you could do worse than bet on a rainy Tuesday in April.

And if you'd walked in at that precise moment and asked him how business was, Dave would have looked up, surprised to see you standing in front of him. He would have set his book upside down on the counter. He would have surveyed the empty aisles and said, Business is fine, thank you. Although he would have been thinking it was better before you came in. Dave shares a trait with many people who run secondhand stores that's not widely seen elsewhere in retail. It's a characteristic that sometimes surfaces in librarians.

Dave resents his customers. That's next week on the pod. I hope you'll join us. Backstage at the Vinyl Cafe is part of the Apostrophe Podcast Network. The recording engineer is a man who always returns his library books on time, Greg DeClute. Theme music is by Danny Michelle and the show is produced by Louise Curtis, Greg DeClute, and me, Jess Milton. Let's meet again next week. Until then, so long for now.