Sparked by a conversation about homelessness in one of my classes, I decided to pick up a Drag rat on Guadalupe and take him out to lunch. As I scanned the street for prospects, my eyes fell upon a smiling older man situated upon a newsstand. As I approached him, however, feelings of anxiety came over me as I realized I had no idea what I could possibly say to this man, who undoubtedly had nothing in common with me. I briefly reconsidered my decision. I'm normally an outgoing and outspoken person in social situations, but I found myself at a loss for words as I sheepishly continued to make my way toward him.
Perhaps it was my innate reaction, having grown up so privileged, to be irked by even the sight of this dirty, destitute man - but, thankfully, I mustered up enough courage and extended an invitation to eat lunch with me. He readily jumped off his elevated perch and agreed to join me. Still slightly uneasy, I reached out my hand and introduced myself. Appreciative of the gesture, the man stretched out his age-worn, battle-tested hand and said, "I'm Bill, my friends call me Smiley."
We agreed to dine at the Spicy Pickle, and on the walk over Bill did not hesitate to initiate the conversation. We quickly progressed beyond the small talk, and I asked Bill how he ended up in Austin. He told me that he had traveled in all of the states in the union except Alaska and Hawaii, and decided that he had the most fun here in Austin.
"The people in Austin are the most interesting and nice," he said. "There is a certain energy here, and I love that about this place."
Without allowing me time to respond, he continued by saying that his favorite activity is to watch people up on his newsstand seat and offer a smile to all who pass him by.
"I feel like God's purpose for my life right now is to just smile at people," he said.
As we continued to traverse the campus, Bill continued to talk about his love of traveling. An aficionado of the peripatetic lifestyle myself, I eagerly listened as he told me stories about all his favorite destinations. My favorite story was one centered around a late night run-in with a bear. Describing this near-death experience, Bill said, "After that bear tried to claw me that night, I slept in the car the rest of the time. Sad thing is, he ruined a perfectly good sleeping bag."
As we entered the restaurant, I could not help but notice customers shooting various looks our way. While we waited for our food, Bill described his family situation and told me about his late wife. He asked me about school and how I was doing. I found out that he had been a UT student in the 1960s and 1970s. Remaining on the topic of education, Bill urged me to "clean out my library." Perplexed, I asked him what he meant. With a smile on his face, he said that our brains are like librarians and are always being bogged down with information and ideas.
"We have been taught so many things since we were little," Bill said. "All that stuff is like books, and we just throw them in our library and let them get piled up. Every now and then, we need to let the librarian inside our heads organize the books and put them on a shelf. Sometimes, though, we may have to throw a book or two in the paper shredder."
Bill also lamented the people who have no idea why they believe what they believe and pointed to a disheveled library as the source of the problem. These people, to state it quite simply, never come to terms with terms on their own terms.
As the meal came to an end, Bill gave me one last piece of wisdom. He told me to always focus on the positive because life is what we make of it.
"If you always focus on the negative, then you are going to feel negatively about your life," he said.
I sat in awe as this man, who, I had picked up off the street, fed me this kernel of wisdom. To close the meal, Bill uttered the most unexpected, impactful statement:
"When I get before God, I'm going to tell him that it was one hellacious ride and that I want to go back."
Stunned, I walked away not feeling warm and fuzzy for doing a good deed, but impacted by the sagacious advice of my new friend.
I know that I am merely well-intentioned at best, and I understand that I will never truly be able to empathize with Bill's situation. Yet, if nothing else, I learned that my initial assertion that the two of us could not possibly have anything in common could not have been more wrong. Indeed we had several things in common - mainly our humanity.
With Christmas season upon us, we need to realize that there are people out there like Bill who have struggles and needs just like ours. We need to put politics, prejudices and presuppositions aside. It is easy to get caught up in the hustle and bustle that this season demands, but it's also easy to take someone to lunch, donate to a toy drive or just offer a smile. Your contribution could make all the difference in the world, and, who knows, you could be positively affected like I was.
Earnest is an economics freshman.
Be the first to comment on this article!