Post by bombmaniac on Dec 23, 2010 2:28:06 GMT -5
You’re walking down the street with your ear buds in your ears, texting your friends about which movie you would like to see on Saturday. You feel the vibration and hear the chirp from your phone indicating a response. You smile at the answer; your friend just made a rather humorous meme reference in his latest text. Pocketing your phone you continue walking, the hint of a smile still on your lips. As you stroll leisurely down the street, the anticipation of meeting your friends cheering you, you spot a man in the periphery of your vision sitting on the sidewalk with his back to a brick wall staring intently at an empty bottle of Bud.
You continue walking. The sight doesn’t affect you too greatly; you’ve seen him every day on the way back from school for the past 5 years. You pull your phone back out of your pocket; you’ve thought of a clever response to your friend’s last text. 4 blocks later you see a similar scene. Another man is sitting on the steps of the courthouse, his rusty shopping cart parked nearby. Once again you pass by with indifference. These people are all a part of the city backdrop. On the way home, a poster in the window of the local Blockbuster catches your eye. You walk in and begin to browse the shelves looking for something to entertain you as you wile away the time of your holiday vacation. You walk up to the counter to check out your selections and see your friend working at the counter. For the next forty five minutes the two of you reminisce about your years together in high school.
The minutes fly by, and you eventually remember to check your watch. “Oh SHIRT” you say, “I’m late for dinner, see you later, man” you say to the clerk. Briskly you jog home. 10 minutes later you are breezing through the front door, already removing your jacket and shoes and tossing them haphazardly on the floor. “Pick those up” you hear your mother yell from the kitchen. You roll your eyes and do as you are told. “Hi mom” you drawl as you walk down the hall to the dining room, “what’s for dinner?” You step into the dining room and move to your usual seat, which tonight is occupied by a rather dishevelled individual emitting a rather foul odour. Not one to be rude, you simply smile at your guest and move to a different seat.
Bearing a steaming platter of mouth-watering steaks your mother walks into the dining room. “Hi honey” she says smiling, “this is Eric Parker” she says indicating the man in your seat. You look up at Eric and give a shy half smile. He proffers his hand which you shake weakly. “I’ve seen you” he says, “you go to school at Montauk High, no?” You nod and stare intently at your plate as your mother serves you and Eric. “I’ve seen you walk past me for the last 5 years”. You blush slightly, embarrassed now at the lack of attention you have shown this man. Eric notices your discomfort. “It’s okay, I understand how you feel. I was once a high school too, believe it or not. I wasn’t always on the streets, I used to have more money than you can imagine.
“My father was a successful theatre director on Broadway in Manhattan. We used to have the biggest house on Park Avenue, have a butler to cater to our every whim, and get driven to school in the largest limo in the area. We would walk down the street as though we owned the world, which we sort of did. Our father was Broadway; the very mention of his name would elicit awestruck looks of admiration. We were oblivious to the suffering of others; to us a homeless man was just part of the scenery, a trendy topic to be discussed at cocktail parties in the context of organizing fundraisers. Deep down I’m sure we cared, but on the face of it what we really cared about was the recognition we would get from the event, and the opportunity to hobnob with the rich and famous.
“Life continued as it does for the wealthy, in a haze of popularity, trendy clothing, new cars, and high school relationships. Life was great, and we didn’t have a care or concern in the world. College came and went; they were the best four years of my life. I was the leader of my fraternity, the big man on campus. I had the world on a string; it was all mine for the taking. I met the love of my life in senior year, and a week after graduation we got married. Life was great; I had a beautiful wife, a stunning new home, and a fantastic job in theatre courtesy of my father.
“The years passed in a haze of parties, successful shows, and every luxury you could imagine. I was blessed with two beautiful children, Lauren and Julian, who were, in my eyes, my greatest achievements. 10 years after I finished college, my father died, leaving me his theatre empire. After a brief period of mourning I picked up where he left off, producing hit after hit. Sadly though, life doesn’t necessarily follow its own trends. Six years ago I was given the opportunity of a lifetime. I was handed the production rights for “The Dionysus Element” which at the time seemed like the greatest thing since sliced bread. Contrary to tradition I invested almost every penny I had in this production. There was no way it could fail.
“Three weeks before the show was scheduled to open there was a stage accident. A lighting rig fell from above the stage, killing the lead actor and 4 understudies. No one wanted to have anything to do with the production anymore, and unlike departments stores, theatres and actors do not have a return policy. I lost everything. The houses I had bought over the years were mortgaged, and after a few months, foreclosed. The cars were sold to keep food on the table. The clothes were sold to buy other necessities. I fell into a deep depression. I had gone from the pinnacle of wealth and fame to the lowest depths of debt and poverty. I locked the world out of my life and retreated into my own corner of consciousness, disregarding my loved ones in the process. It’s not that I didn’t love them, don’t still love them, I just couldn’t bear the thought of them living such a lifestyle.
“My relationship with my wife and children deteriorated rapidly, until one day I was served with a subpoena to family court along with a divorce. I didn’t have the strength to fight my wife, and I let her have what she wanted, which included the kids. No theatre would hire me after what happened under my watch, and my pride wouldn’t allow me to get a “common” job. After the longest year of my life I was left with absolutely nothing and began living on the streets. I drank to deaden my pain. Life hardly seemed worth living.
“One night I decided that I had had enough. Walking across the Brooklyn Bridge one day, I decided to end it all. As I stood on the edge of the bridge, I saw my life pass before my eyes. My greatest achievements. My worst failures. I saw my children. My wife. My friends. I saw them all standing around me in a circle, closing in on me all pointing accusatory fingers at me, blaming me for all the heartache I caused them. As they closed in on me I shuffled closer and closer to the edge. Still they moved closer and closer until they engulfed me in a crush of mental bodies and an emotional ton of bricks sending me hurtling off that bridge...but it was not to be the end.
“I felt a vicelike grip close around my ankle, dragging me back up onto the bridge. Disoriented I look around until I see the ungroomed, dishevelled face hovering over mine. Before I even had a chance to open my mouth to say a word, he jumped up and off the bridge himself, hitting the face of the water with a faint slap. Shock gripped me. That man had just saved me, only to kill himself right afterward. At first I couldn’t understand what had happened. I staggered back to my place at the wall and drank myself drunk.
“The next morning I woke up with the biggest hangover I had had since college. At first I couldn’t remember anything. Then slowly the details returned. I still could not make sense of what had happened. As the days progressed however, it dawned on me. That man, my anonymous saviour, cared more for my life that he did for his own. To help another was his ultimate purpose, and only once he had saved my life was he able to end his. Although he was himself ending his life, he still valued the lives of others more than anything else in the world. This realization shook me to my very core, and from that day forward I resolved to help others whenever possible.
“Weeks passed and I still had not found a way to help people. After all, how many opportunities does a homeless person have to help another person? We are the usual recipients of help, not the benefactors. For inspiration I decided to revisit the section of the Brooklyn Bridge where my life nearly ended at my own hand. As I was walking along I saw a man standing on the very edge I had stood only a few weeks ago. Horrified at what I knew was about to happen I ran as fast as I could to the edge, yelling “NO! NO! DON’T DO IT!” as I went, the scene of my own attempted suicide replaying itself in my mind as I ran. I saw the man begin to move closer and closer to the edge, just as I had, and picked up the pace. I was 10 feet from him when I saw him fall. Refusing to give up on another human being’s life, I lunged after him, grabbing his ankle, just as my saviour grabbed mine. At the very moment my hand closed around him, my foot caught hold of one of the metal support beams holding up the bridge.
“Mustering all of my strength, I pulled myself up by that foot, gaining enough leverage to wedge my other foot into another support beam. After 5 minutes I had hoisted the man back up onto the bridge. I had saved his life. Unlike the man who saved my life, I did not jump off the bridge. I saw it as an opportunity to help my fellow man, and took him under my wing. The man I saved is the man you passed four blocks after you passed me. Ever since that day I have split everything I got with him. I provided him with my only blanket to keep him warm at night. I make sure he has food to eat, even if it means that I go hungry. And I can tell you; there is no greater pleasure in the world than the pleasure you get from helping another person. The smile on their face, the happiness you bring them, the gratitude the express is unparalleled by any other enjoyment in the world. No amount of money can buy that satisfaction.”
Your head drops to your chest as your face glows a bright red. You feel so small and guilty for your attitude in the past. You think to yourself “here is a man who has nothing and still he gives to others, what does that make me?” Eric notices your discomfort and lays a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Don’t feel bad” he says, “I’m not accusing your or trying to make you feel guilty. I am just trying to enlighten you, and to make you a better person. Concern for our fellow man is what makes us human. Trust me, if you try it you will see how worthwhile it is. Investing in humanity is the greatest investment you will ever make in your lifetime.” Dinner passes in silence, and you quietly say goodbye to Eric Parker as he heads out the door back to the streets.
The next day you are walking back from school again, and once again you pass Eric sitting there in his spot by the wall staring intently at the empty beer bottle in his hand. Awkwardly you walk up to him. “Hey, Eric” you say, “How are you today?” “I’m fine today, thanks for asking” he says with a smile. “Can I get you anything?” “No” he answers, “I’m fine, but the man four blocks down can use a sandwich. I haven’t been able to get him anything for the past week and I know he hasn’t had much himself.” You nod and walk off to buy the man a sandwich.
Four blocks later you approach the messy man sitting on the steps. “Hello, I brought you a sandwich.” The man looks up, “do I know you?” “No” you reply, “but Eric sent me with this.” I hand him the sandwich and watch him unwrap it. Greedily he bites into it, almost moaning from the pleasure of it. To him it must be the fabled ambrosia, food of the gods. You sit next to him as he eats, and when he’s finished, you get up to continue walking. He looks up at you with a hint of a smile. “Thank you so much” he says, his voice filled with emotion. “You have no idea how much that meant to me. Most people who pass don’t even look my way, and those who do stop do so only long enough to toss me a quarter as If they are tossing a dog a treat. The world would be a better place if there were more people like you.”
“No, sir, thank you” you say as you walk away, your heart glowing from the interaction. Great warmth fills you, a pleasure and satisfaction like you have never felt before. You start toward your home but turn back. You begin to run back four blocks to where Eric sits on the floor by the wall staring at the empty beer bottle. You get there out of breath and Eric looks up. You smile as you say “Thank you, Mr Parker, you were absolutely right.” Eric smiles in response and you both continue smiling as you walk, with a spring in your step, back to your home.
You continue walking. The sight doesn’t affect you too greatly; you’ve seen him every day on the way back from school for the past 5 years. You pull your phone back out of your pocket; you’ve thought of a clever response to your friend’s last text. 4 blocks later you see a similar scene. Another man is sitting on the steps of the courthouse, his rusty shopping cart parked nearby. Once again you pass by with indifference. These people are all a part of the city backdrop. On the way home, a poster in the window of the local Blockbuster catches your eye. You walk in and begin to browse the shelves looking for something to entertain you as you wile away the time of your holiday vacation. You walk up to the counter to check out your selections and see your friend working at the counter. For the next forty five minutes the two of you reminisce about your years together in high school.
The minutes fly by, and you eventually remember to check your watch. “Oh SHIRT” you say, “I’m late for dinner, see you later, man” you say to the clerk. Briskly you jog home. 10 minutes later you are breezing through the front door, already removing your jacket and shoes and tossing them haphazardly on the floor. “Pick those up” you hear your mother yell from the kitchen. You roll your eyes and do as you are told. “Hi mom” you drawl as you walk down the hall to the dining room, “what’s for dinner?” You step into the dining room and move to your usual seat, which tonight is occupied by a rather dishevelled individual emitting a rather foul odour. Not one to be rude, you simply smile at your guest and move to a different seat.
Bearing a steaming platter of mouth-watering steaks your mother walks into the dining room. “Hi honey” she says smiling, “this is Eric Parker” she says indicating the man in your seat. You look up at Eric and give a shy half smile. He proffers his hand which you shake weakly. “I’ve seen you” he says, “you go to school at Montauk High, no?” You nod and stare intently at your plate as your mother serves you and Eric. “I’ve seen you walk past me for the last 5 years”. You blush slightly, embarrassed now at the lack of attention you have shown this man. Eric notices your discomfort. “It’s okay, I understand how you feel. I was once a high school too, believe it or not. I wasn’t always on the streets, I used to have more money than you can imagine.
“My father was a successful theatre director on Broadway in Manhattan. We used to have the biggest house on Park Avenue, have a butler to cater to our every whim, and get driven to school in the largest limo in the area. We would walk down the street as though we owned the world, which we sort of did. Our father was Broadway; the very mention of his name would elicit awestruck looks of admiration. We were oblivious to the suffering of others; to us a homeless man was just part of the scenery, a trendy topic to be discussed at cocktail parties in the context of organizing fundraisers. Deep down I’m sure we cared, but on the face of it what we really cared about was the recognition we would get from the event, and the opportunity to hobnob with the rich and famous.
“Life continued as it does for the wealthy, in a haze of popularity, trendy clothing, new cars, and high school relationships. Life was great, and we didn’t have a care or concern in the world. College came and went; they were the best four years of my life. I was the leader of my fraternity, the big man on campus. I had the world on a string; it was all mine for the taking. I met the love of my life in senior year, and a week after graduation we got married. Life was great; I had a beautiful wife, a stunning new home, and a fantastic job in theatre courtesy of my father.
“The years passed in a haze of parties, successful shows, and every luxury you could imagine. I was blessed with two beautiful children, Lauren and Julian, who were, in my eyes, my greatest achievements. 10 years after I finished college, my father died, leaving me his theatre empire. After a brief period of mourning I picked up where he left off, producing hit after hit. Sadly though, life doesn’t necessarily follow its own trends. Six years ago I was given the opportunity of a lifetime. I was handed the production rights for “The Dionysus Element” which at the time seemed like the greatest thing since sliced bread. Contrary to tradition I invested almost every penny I had in this production. There was no way it could fail.
“Three weeks before the show was scheduled to open there was a stage accident. A lighting rig fell from above the stage, killing the lead actor and 4 understudies. No one wanted to have anything to do with the production anymore, and unlike departments stores, theatres and actors do not have a return policy. I lost everything. The houses I had bought over the years were mortgaged, and after a few months, foreclosed. The cars were sold to keep food on the table. The clothes were sold to buy other necessities. I fell into a deep depression. I had gone from the pinnacle of wealth and fame to the lowest depths of debt and poverty. I locked the world out of my life and retreated into my own corner of consciousness, disregarding my loved ones in the process. It’s not that I didn’t love them, don’t still love them, I just couldn’t bear the thought of them living such a lifestyle.
“My relationship with my wife and children deteriorated rapidly, until one day I was served with a subpoena to family court along with a divorce. I didn’t have the strength to fight my wife, and I let her have what she wanted, which included the kids. No theatre would hire me after what happened under my watch, and my pride wouldn’t allow me to get a “common” job. After the longest year of my life I was left with absolutely nothing and began living on the streets. I drank to deaden my pain. Life hardly seemed worth living.
“One night I decided that I had had enough. Walking across the Brooklyn Bridge one day, I decided to end it all. As I stood on the edge of the bridge, I saw my life pass before my eyes. My greatest achievements. My worst failures. I saw my children. My wife. My friends. I saw them all standing around me in a circle, closing in on me all pointing accusatory fingers at me, blaming me for all the heartache I caused them. As they closed in on me I shuffled closer and closer to the edge. Still they moved closer and closer until they engulfed me in a crush of mental bodies and an emotional ton of bricks sending me hurtling off that bridge...but it was not to be the end.
“I felt a vicelike grip close around my ankle, dragging me back up onto the bridge. Disoriented I look around until I see the ungroomed, dishevelled face hovering over mine. Before I even had a chance to open my mouth to say a word, he jumped up and off the bridge himself, hitting the face of the water with a faint slap. Shock gripped me. That man had just saved me, only to kill himself right afterward. At first I couldn’t understand what had happened. I staggered back to my place at the wall and drank myself drunk.
“The next morning I woke up with the biggest hangover I had had since college. At first I couldn’t remember anything. Then slowly the details returned. I still could not make sense of what had happened. As the days progressed however, it dawned on me. That man, my anonymous saviour, cared more for my life that he did for his own. To help another was his ultimate purpose, and only once he had saved my life was he able to end his. Although he was himself ending his life, he still valued the lives of others more than anything else in the world. This realization shook me to my very core, and from that day forward I resolved to help others whenever possible.
“Weeks passed and I still had not found a way to help people. After all, how many opportunities does a homeless person have to help another person? We are the usual recipients of help, not the benefactors. For inspiration I decided to revisit the section of the Brooklyn Bridge where my life nearly ended at my own hand. As I was walking along I saw a man standing on the very edge I had stood only a few weeks ago. Horrified at what I knew was about to happen I ran as fast as I could to the edge, yelling “NO! NO! DON’T DO IT!” as I went, the scene of my own attempted suicide replaying itself in my mind as I ran. I saw the man begin to move closer and closer to the edge, just as I had, and picked up the pace. I was 10 feet from him when I saw him fall. Refusing to give up on another human being’s life, I lunged after him, grabbing his ankle, just as my saviour grabbed mine. At the very moment my hand closed around him, my foot caught hold of one of the metal support beams holding up the bridge.
“Mustering all of my strength, I pulled myself up by that foot, gaining enough leverage to wedge my other foot into another support beam. After 5 minutes I had hoisted the man back up onto the bridge. I had saved his life. Unlike the man who saved my life, I did not jump off the bridge. I saw it as an opportunity to help my fellow man, and took him under my wing. The man I saved is the man you passed four blocks after you passed me. Ever since that day I have split everything I got with him. I provided him with my only blanket to keep him warm at night. I make sure he has food to eat, even if it means that I go hungry. And I can tell you; there is no greater pleasure in the world than the pleasure you get from helping another person. The smile on their face, the happiness you bring them, the gratitude the express is unparalleled by any other enjoyment in the world. No amount of money can buy that satisfaction.”
Your head drops to your chest as your face glows a bright red. You feel so small and guilty for your attitude in the past. You think to yourself “here is a man who has nothing and still he gives to others, what does that make me?” Eric notices your discomfort and lays a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Don’t feel bad” he says, “I’m not accusing your or trying to make you feel guilty. I am just trying to enlighten you, and to make you a better person. Concern for our fellow man is what makes us human. Trust me, if you try it you will see how worthwhile it is. Investing in humanity is the greatest investment you will ever make in your lifetime.” Dinner passes in silence, and you quietly say goodbye to Eric Parker as he heads out the door back to the streets.
The next day you are walking back from school again, and once again you pass Eric sitting there in his spot by the wall staring intently at the empty beer bottle in his hand. Awkwardly you walk up to him. “Hey, Eric” you say, “How are you today?” “I’m fine today, thanks for asking” he says with a smile. “Can I get you anything?” “No” he answers, “I’m fine, but the man four blocks down can use a sandwich. I haven’t been able to get him anything for the past week and I know he hasn’t had much himself.” You nod and walk off to buy the man a sandwich.
Four blocks later you approach the messy man sitting on the steps. “Hello, I brought you a sandwich.” The man looks up, “do I know you?” “No” you reply, “but Eric sent me with this.” I hand him the sandwich and watch him unwrap it. Greedily he bites into it, almost moaning from the pleasure of it. To him it must be the fabled ambrosia, food of the gods. You sit next to him as he eats, and when he’s finished, you get up to continue walking. He looks up at you with a hint of a smile. “Thank you so much” he says, his voice filled with emotion. “You have no idea how much that meant to me. Most people who pass don’t even look my way, and those who do stop do so only long enough to toss me a quarter as If they are tossing a dog a treat. The world would be a better place if there were more people like you.”
“No, sir, thank you” you say as you walk away, your heart glowing from the interaction. Great warmth fills you, a pleasure and satisfaction like you have never felt before. You start toward your home but turn back. You begin to run back four blocks to where Eric sits on the floor by the wall staring at the empty beer bottle. You get there out of breath and Eric looks up. You smile as you say “Thank you, Mr Parker, you were absolutely right.” Eric smiles in response and you both continue smiling as you walk, with a spring in your step, back to your home.
. I'm speechless.
