Howling gusts of sprinting air collided with the windshield as I drove through the chaotic rush hour traffic. Constantly reminding me of home: The lake, the glowing whisper of the wind, the blue collar smile, windy is my city.
The smoke rings in my head float to various points throughout the prosperous day, as I enjoy my evening driving in front of a fading sunset into the darkness of night.
Daydreamin' of the inner joy my being will inherit due to the tenacity and perspiration my soul has bled on the journey to success in accomplishing my goals.
Completely enchanted by the infinite bursts of percussion beats and spoken words rockin' out of the factory speakers. Each pause is so symmetrically balanced that with every vibration my spirit is uplifted one step closer to paradise.
Blinking back into reality as I reach my destination in the parking space marked thirty-three. I turn off the engine and step out of the self-examining space bubble and show the utmost respect for my awaiting homeboy by offering my hand as a sign of peace and love.
We start on our walk down the concrete path leading to surrounded walls of refuge from authoritative prejudices.
Our naked eyes are quickly humbled by the sight of a fellow human being desperately rummaging through a dumpster in search of remnants of a left over meal.
In passing, my conscience is in a state of disbelief, as I glance at the hopelessness in the grown man who was stripped off all dignity and pride.
Our guilt was grown out of a great sense of compassion and appreciation. The lost art of gratefulness blinds my materialistic thoughts and insecurities.
Finally, my friend was prompted to allow his modest humility to speak honest words of frustration, that in a multi-billion dollar society there are still stomachs, who daily, have to fight off the never ending pains of famish.
My life felt his life. And both our prides cried.
Instantly as if the transfer of unspoken body language connected us on parallel reactions, we rushed upstairs to see what gesture of decency was in our capabilities to offer the broken man.
We quickly threw together a couple of sandwiches and a ice cold Corona as our honor felt a rush of satisfaction in having the privilege to "give." On the walk back downstairs I tried to think of something inspiring to say, leaving the man with something to contemplate.
Unfortunately my mind was at a blank.
The realization hit me that we were not doing this out of generosity or an act of charity. Mostly it is our pride that with this barely detectable offering of happiness of yesterday, can be hope for today, and change for tomorrow.
You see we have not lost the capacity to feel humanity’s beautiful glow.
We are living, breathing members of this generation who not only want to make things better for ourselves but also for "mankind."
Passing along the makeshift lunch bag hoping to make a difference did not seem that hopeless for that moment. To think how things would be if everyone else in the world could afford to give a little.
And one day is a start.....
So when you’re daydreaming about personal advancement of capitalistic success, you need only to remember that we live by what we earn, yet sometimes it’s the things that we are able to give that make a life….
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