Wednesday
During my lunch hour today I wanted to drop off a fountain pen for repair.
This meant a walk to Downtown Crossing in the shopping district,
an area swarming with people today due to the warm summer weather.
The Bromfield Pen Shop is a place I have dreams about with all their pens, cool ink and exotic paper.
It’s the only place in Boston to take a sick pen; the patient of the day: a Mont Blanc fountain pen.
As I walked down Washington Street, grilled sausages, onions and red and green peppers assaulted my olfactory senses.
I was hungry and had multiple thoughts of mustard.
Spicy, brown mustard.
I was limited on time so I dropped off the pen and didn’t chance a look at the new inks
that had undoubtedly come in.
I am a big-time sucker for creatively colored inks.
Thank my lucky stars I didn’t have the time to spend money I don’t have on inks I really don’t need.
And ink is sooooo cool.
You have no idea.
I left the pen shop and walked up Bromfield Street when I saw a sign for a tres cool sandwich shop.
I walked in and saw a line longer than the bank on payday.
I would settle for a grilled chicken sandwich from Burger King. (yummy, right?)
I sat down to eat and noticed an older black man panhandling right outside the front door.
This guy was a bit different though.
He wasn’t asking for money, though he did hold a large BK cup in his hand.
I watched through the glass as he mouthed ‘hello’ and ‘have a nice day, now’ to the many people walking by.
He was polite and generally unobtrusive for a needy guy.
And he was needy.
He stood about my height (5’8”) and had on ratty clothes, the overall effect topped off
with a weathered Boston Red Sox hat.
His toothless smile seemed almost innocuous. . . inviting.
You almost wanted to forgive him though he’d done no wrong, if that makes any sense.
As a rule, I don’t give money to street people.
I might offer a piece of fruit or a bottle of water if I have an extra.
I reached into my BK bag and took out an order of French Fries that I hadn’t ordered.
I brought them up to the register and told the woman that waited on me that I hadn’t ordered them. She waved her hand in a ‘no comprende’ way and said ‘keep them’.
I haven’t been eating fries lately and decided my windfall would be a snack for the man outside ‘working the street’.
I ate my lunch and continued to watch this man smile, say hello, give directions and take whatever this unblinking society would give him.
I finished my sandwich and grabbed the bag with the fries (still sufficiently hot) and left.
I walked up and handed him the bag and said, “Here, eat these. You do eat fries, don’t ya’?”
You would have thought I’d just given him a winning lottery ticket.
He smiled and said, “Bless you, my brother. Bless your heart.”
I walked across Tremont Street and through a warm, sunny Boston Common back to work,
oddly happy to have been sincerely blessed.
~m
Oh the irony! everyone gives me crap because of my pen obsession.
There’s nothing like a great pen to make your day.
Great story ~m !!! You made his day! You are so kind and generous….
P.S. I’m glad you have started writing again! Have a wonderful day!
Ah, the gift of fries, never to be under estimated.
I follow the same rule as you.
Never money.
Food maybe, but never money.
Amazing how something you and I take for granted can make such a difference to others.
How many times would most people have thrown half a tub of these things in the bin because they didn’t want them?
I include myself in there BTW.
To someone like this who does it hard, it would have been like winning the lottery I guess.
I do agree with not giving them money, but food is never wasted on these poor souls.
well done. the gift of the fries, and the telling of the story.
love the fireworks, by the way, but at first, i thought my computer had a bug!
Wow. Fireworks, fountain pens, and french fries. I even love the colored inks. Have used a lot of brown and green in my day.
Sincerely blessed, indeed!
See, the pen IS mightier than the sword!