A man held up a sign this morning asking for either a smile or a dollar. I grinned, and I'm not sure at what--either the sheer delight of someone, anyone, trying desperately to spread some cheer to the people in this city who can be so fashionably cold and aloof, or his bravado for asking for a buck. Forget spare change, this guy is looking for hard cash. Good for him, I thought. He's thinking big. If you don't ask you won't get it. You could hear in his volume and see in his grandiose motions that he was pushing up against something really big, something big he was fighting. Something told me Fellowship. Something about his overly optimistic view of his fellow creatures, something that I've been struggling with lately.
"You got the idea," he yelled at me. I walked over to him, knowing I did have a couple of dollar bills in my pocket. I knew that because I have to collect them for the parking lot at the train station. I value those pieces of scrap paper. But I could give up one for this guy.
"Here ya go," I said, "what are you up to?"
"Well," he replied, "hopefully by the end of the day I'll have a job."
"What do you do?" this copywriter for Buick asked. Hell, maybe we have something in common, I thought, but please don't tell me you're an out-of-work writer.
"I'm a dishwasher," he answered. He said he was trying to get train fare to Dedham.
Dollars to donuts he won't get the job even if he does get to Dedham. But...and this is a really big but...he might have helped me out more today that I helped him, so I sincerely wish him all the luck in the world.
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