Don't Mean To Be Persnicketty....but

Dear Boo and Bubble,

In writing the last blog about your great uncle Gene and the man in the bus station, it reminded me of another similar story.  I don’t know whether Gene is a magnet for these sorts of people, but they keep showing up in his personal folklore.

Years ago, Gene was walking down the sidewalk of Main Street in Greenville, SC, on his way to an early morning business meeting.  He happened to approach a disheveled, smelly and generally pathetic homeless man slouched against the wall of a building.  Gene thought the guy was asleep, but as he passed by, a voice crept out from the pitiable form.

“Do you have a dollar for a cup of coffee?” 

Without breaking stride, Gene responded pretty roughly, “No I don’t!”  He felt pretty disgusted by the man’s appearance and crude solicitation.  He certainly wasn’t inclined to give the man money that would only be used to buy liquor.

But, about half a block later his conscience got the better of him – probably a tug from the spirit of our beloved deceased mother who couldn’t turn anybody down no matter if they were the worst reprobate in the world.  He ducked into a café and ordered a hot, fragrant cup of coffee “to go,” paid for it and picked up some cream, sugar and diet sweetener just in case the homeless man happened to be a little discriminating.  He put a lid on the cup and walked back up the street.

“Here.  I’ve brought you some coffee since that’s what you wanted.”  Gene stooped over to hand the man the cup.

As if in slow motion, the fellow reached for the coffee and carefully pried the lid off.  He stared into the dark liquid for a few seconds then raised his bloodshot eyes to Gene with a disdain softened only by his stupor.

“That’s not the kind I like,” he slurred.