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The elderly man at the counter counted his change several times, as if hope could stretch the all mighty dollar. He was fragile and ghostly--about the age my dad would have been if he hadn't died from cancer last summer. Normally, I didn't get involved in other people's affairs. On previous occasions, my offers of assistance had offended the very people I was trying to help. Instead of focusing on the kindness of my heart, they seemed to think I was suggesting a failure or weakness on their part. Nothing could be further from the truth. We all need a hand out or a leg up at some point.
After a few minutes, the man was still fumbling with his change, and the clerk at the register was starting to fume. I couldn't stand watching either one of them any longer. Pride be damned, I thought. I'm going to help this old man whether he likes it or not. I dug two dollars out of my purse and laid it on the counter beside him. "Oh, thank you," he said, cheerfully. He was from the old school where thoughtfulness is still appreciated. Even though I'm a woman, he gazed at me--dreamy-eyed--as if I were his knight in shining armor.
Having done my good deed for the day, I went back to eating my popcorn combo--a virtual bag of bright yellow maize combined with a cupful of chemicals. It was the only food the poor man had wanted, and yet his meager Social Security check didn't cover the cost. I scoffed at the government that funds corporate bailouts and makes the rich even richer while taxpayers are relegated to beggar status. What a country!
"How do you like the weather?" asked the old man. He was sitting at the table beside mine now, happily chomping away. "I'm getting tired of the rain," I replied. "I'd rather be outside." He agreed with me but I doubted his sincerity. He seemed perfectly content to be keeping company with a middle-aged "hottie" at Target on a rainy afternoon.
When only kernels remained at the bottom of my bag, I balled it up and rose to toss it away. "Have a great rest of the day," I said with a faint smile. "You too," he said. "And thanks again. Thank you. God bless you." As I left the store on Auto Park Way, I was both disgusted and pleased. A one dollar bill and two quarters was all it had taken to make an old man's day.
The elderly man at the counter counted his change several times, as if hope could stretch the all mighty dollar. He was fragile and ghostly--about the age my dad would have been if he hadn't died from cancer last summer. Normally, I didn't get involved in other people's affairs. On previous occasions, my offers of assistance had offended the very people I was trying to help. Instead of focusing on the kindness of my heart, they seemed to think I was suggesting a failure or weakness on their part. Nothing could be further from the truth. We all need a hand out or a leg up at some point.
After a few minutes, the man was still fumbling with his change, and the clerk at the register was starting to fume. I couldn't stand watching either one of them any longer. Pride be damned, I thought. I'm going to help this old man whether he likes it or not. I dug two dollars out of my purse and laid it on the counter beside him. "Oh, thank you," he said, cheerfully. He was from the old school where thoughtfulness is still appreciated. Even though I'm a woman, he gazed at me--dreamy-eyed--as if I were his knight in shining armor.
Having done my good deed for the day, I went back to eating my popcorn combo--a virtual bag of bright yellow maize combined with a cupful of chemicals. It was the only food the poor man had wanted, and yet his meager Social Security check didn't cover the cost. I scoffed at the government that funds corporate bailouts and makes the rich even richer while taxpayers are relegated to beggar status. What a country!
"How do you like the weather?" asked the old man. He was sitting at the table beside mine now, happily chomping away. "I'm getting tired of the rain," I replied. "I'd rather be outside." He agreed with me but I doubted his sincerity. He seemed perfectly content to be keeping company with a middle-aged "hottie" at Target on a rainy afternoon.
When only kernels remained at the bottom of my bag, I balled it up and rose to toss it away. "Have a great rest of the day," I said with a faint smile. "You too," he said. "And thanks again. Thank you. God bless you." As I left the store on Auto Park Way, I was both disgusted and pleased. A one dollar bill and two quarters was all it had taken to make an old man's day.