Some years ago I was in Miami, just returning from a 3-month South American trip. The hotel I stayed was a double room, and as part of the deal it included breakfast. The reception gave me two tickets for the same. Since I didn’t want to waste it, I went outside to the street, and the first person I saw was a homeless person, so I invited him to come with me to the restaurant. It was interesting to look at peoples expressions, some of them shocked, some of them moved away from the table I sat. I saw the restaurant manager talking to a waitress who came to me, asking me if I could move to another table, kind like hidden from the general view. I said, no problem. I wasn’t trying to create any.
Then I asked the homeless person… (he had been in Vietnam, and was not completely O.K. in his mind, but he was very gentle), that what did he want to eat. He responded: “just coffee and some bread is fine”, but I told him: “I’ll ask the waitress for coffee, but come with me to the food station so that you can see all that is there to eat.” He did, got a plate with some egg, potatoes & bacon, and some bread. I asked him if he wanted some juice, but he said no, that he was fine. We came back to the table, he ate all of his food, and then I asked him if he wanted some more, but he said no, that he was fine.
He accompanied me to finish my breakfast, then we went outside, gave him 10 bucks, and told him to take care of himself. He smiled and went away.
That’s my short story of my homeless experience, a good one I should say.
Credit: Photo by Nick Fewings