Walk a Mile in My Shoes
His name was John, he was homeless and happy
Years ago I use to run everyday. Quite a workout clocking eight or nine miles before leaving for the office.. Over my time as a runner my feet began to give me problems and I would mistakenly try to remedy: hammer toes, bunions, calluses, ingrown toe nails, heel spurs, corns, blisters, all manner of injury by getting a new pair of running shoes. Seemed like I never get rid of the old ones but simply added to my collection of pairs I would never use again.
John
He was homeless. I’d heard he had a family who would welcome him with open arms but he seemed to like his current status of a bedroll and backpack on the corner of 20th & Chestnut, Philadelphia. He had his “customers “ who walked on by his stake and toss a shekel or two in the large iron pot he had by his side on his corner.
Although his circumstances were not to be envied, John remained relentlessly upbeat and cheerful. He continued to greet passer-byes with cheery optimism , even the ones who didn’t do “business” with him.
I once saw a guy in a suit walk by John, suddenly pirouette, take out his wallet, open the bill compartment and shake out whatever bills he had. The green floated down to the sidewalk that was John’s “front yard.” John thanked the man. The well dressed fellow turned to face me…
