Picky Eater

Picky Eater

On my way back from that magical wonderland commonly known as Trader Joe's, I saw a homeless man. He had so few resources that he had to use newspapers on top of his clothing to keep warm. How awful. In a spirit of Christian charity, I mustered my courage and stepped out of the stream of people.

"Would you like a roll?" I said in my most cheerful voice as I pulled a fresh artisan roll out of the bag.

He looked at me in disgust and shook his head. "How do I know if it's sanitary?"Well all right. He's got a point. The swine flu could attack anyone...anywhere...at anytime. I put the roll back in the bag.

I had already stopped, though, and felt I could not leave him empty-handed. I looked through my other groceries. "Do you want some cookies?" I pulled out a sealed container of chocolate chip.

"What are you trying to do poison me with your unhealthy food?!" His voice rose with disdain.

In one final attempt to be generous, I pulled out a whole pack of deli turkey (it had taken me three years to save up enough money to buy meat in New York.) "Do you want some turkey?" I said meekly, hoping against hope that he would take it so I could just leave and spend the rest of the walk up Broadway patting myself on the back.

"Miss! Miss," he chided, "if you have all those groceries in that bag, and you can't think of anything better to do with them than give them away, there must be something wrong with you!"

"Uh…well...God bless you." I walked away. When I got home I ate a sandwich--turkey on an artisan roll--and a plate of chocolate chip cookies.