Every afternoon on the way home, I would see a Mexican old man selling flowers and bags of oranges at the corner of Jefferson and La Cienega. He would hold a bunch of flowers, walking from car to car, trying to make a living. Every time I saw him coming near me, I would lower my head and pretend that I didn’t see him even though I was struggling with myself inside. Each time he was rejected, he would walk slowly back toward his basket with bent backs and lowered head. Seeing this, I felt even more sorry for him.
I can be a bit stingy when it comes to giving out money. Whenever I saw young beggars sitting on the street begging for money, I would be upset with them. They have healthy bodies and four limbs. Why couldn’t they find a job instead of living off people’s charity? Even simple construction work can help them make meals. But in this case, it’s simply an old man selling stuff. I know only a few bucks can help him a great deal. But I really don’t know what I would do with flowers and 15 oranges. So everyday the struggle continues as I’m driving home.