In Fall of 2008, my husband worked at a Starbucks in our neighborhood. Sometimes I’d hang out while he worked, but sometimes that was a closing shift. For liability reasons, I couldn’t hang out inside after they closed the store to the public, so I’d sit right outside. I’d sit cross legged, back against a wall, and read a book or something, until about 1:15 when they’d finish up and we could walk home together. At this hour, in this particular neighborhood, no one’s usually out and there’s virtually no car traffic.
One chilly late Fall evening, while I read, an older man came by. He walked right up to me without hesitation, at a friendly pace, and without saying anything, giving only a simple gesture and a genuine smile as his explanation, he handed me a most beautiful and fragrant pale pink rose. I answered his gesture with a questioning look, and attempted to vocalize such surprise, but he waved it away ever so gently, retreated, and disappeared into the night.
I couldn’t help but smile to myself for the rest of the night, wonder what his story was, and ponder why anyone would do something so curious and wonderful. I don’t think I’ll forget that for a very long time.
.
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Also, slightly tangential, one of my acquaintances told us a story about how his friend chose to utilized her official police tone and intercom announcement noises.
She would chose a restaurant with more than a few homeless people out front.
Then she would call the restaurant and explain that the police department had officers incognito, dressed as homeless people, set up outside of the restaurants.
This really does seem like a strange and potentially cruel think to do, I know.
While not all of the restaurants bought her story, the ones that did often reacted by preparing a generous, warm platter of food and bringing it to the people out front.
I thought that was a fantastic practice. Helped restore my faith in humanity a little bit.