Brother, Can You Spare A Dime

Almost every time I go to Eugene for my job, I take my lunch at the rest area heading out of town. As I head North on I-5, it is around mile post 206.

There is a man there who waits with a sign. "Homeless Combat Veteran" is what I believe it says, but I haven't read the thing in so long, I couldn't tell you for sure anymore. His dark skin and glasses are usually framed by the hood of his jacket. He holds a cane in front of him as he stands there, and is always smiling and talking with folks.

I know for sure that he is a vet because all the vets that come across him start talking the military lingo. I don't really speak that language, nor do I try, but I appreciate seeing how they treat each other with respect, unlike the government that hired them.

I try to always give this man money if I have some. It doesn't matter to me what he does with it. I have no right to be his little dictator because I gave him a gift. I just see a fellow human being who needs help. Who am I to deny him that dignity?

Today is payday, so I walk up to him, give him the last of my change and the last two dollars in my wallet.

"It's payday," I say happily. "You get the last of what I got."

"Thank you!" he says with a big smile, and I'm glad I was able to share with him.

It feels good to give sometimes, and I know he will get good use out of that last few bucks, and what would I do with it? Buy a cup of coffee?

After using the restroom, I walk past my fellow human being with the cardboard sign. "See you later," I tell him.

"Yeah! See ya!" he says back with a huge smile.

I get to my truck and pull out a tiny notebook I keep in the same pocket as my wallet and a dime falls out. Usually, I would see this as a failure. I failed to give all I could when I had more to give. But there is a message in my soul, "No matter how much I give, I'll always have more to give."

I think of taking the dime to my comrade, but I'm tired, and lazy, and tired, and tired, and I hop into the truck and eat goat cheese on crackers then take a nap, knowing I still have more to give.