Creative Nonfiction Contest Finalist
The Contents of Josephine’s Enormous Gray Bag
What I learned about the human soul
Ever had your ass groped by a felon? In my early twenties, I began a career in social work in Atlanta. One of my assignments involved delivering care packages to prisoners. I also worked with street prostitutes abused, worn-down by age 20, selling the only asset they had for $20. In an after-school program, I distributed meals for kids who had no other access to food. The kids would bite each chicken nugget then shove the rest in their pockets for their next meal.
And then, at the over-confident age of 22, I was assigned to a small community program in a small town. I had some real-world, rough-city experience. I was ready for anything. Small town assignment? Easy!
And then I met Josephine.
First day in my new assignment and I found myself driving a 15-passenger van around town to gather folks for a community center event. I had collected an assemblage of children and teens when we hit the last stop, Josephine’s house.
She scrambled into the van without help. Offering her biggest smile, she announced, “I’m Josephine!”
She was a spry and colorful eighty-something-year-old woman. She had dyed her…
