This week has been a busy week of lunchtime errands. It's almost Thanksgiving and I had a lot of things to do before we're gone for a whole week.On Tuesday, I headed over to Newbury Street to make an exchange at one of the shops. On the way, I was accosted by one of those non-profit sellers. You know, the people on every street corner in busy areas of the city asking if you care about the children, the polar bears, the trees or any array of things that, yes, I do care about, but not enough to stand there and talk to you and give you my credit card information. I can make charity donations on my own, and I'm sorry you're getting commission off of trapping people on the street.
I quickly dismissed the latest charity hawker and was, again, stopped by someone else on the sidewalk. I almost just ignored him and kept walking, tired of the barrage interrupting my quick errand. But I didn't. I stopped and let him to his schpiel. He was a homeless man selling the homeless paper - Spare Change. Selling the volunteer-run paper is a way for the homeless to make a little extra money. I'd always see those guys, just never stopped to talk or get a paper. I asked how much it was. He said whatever I wanted to give, "Maybe $5?" Well, all I had was a one bill and a twenty. So I gave him a dollar. And then emptied my change into his open hands - which, to be honest, there was at least another two dollars in there.
A little change to help him make a big one.
