(Originally published 11/22/06 on journalstar.com)

This morning people were just making me sad.

While walking my dog, I watched from across the street as an elderly man headed towards a newspaper machine. He was obviously unstable on his feet, and watching him trip-step along made me nervous. Every step he took I cringed inside and thanked God he was still upright. Eventually he made it to the newspaper machine, put in his quarters and opened the door, then lost his balance and caught himself by sort of slumping over onto the top of the machine. The door snapped shut, leaving him without a paper. He didn’t reach in his pockets to feel for more change, I guess he knew it wasn’t there.

Then he saw me looking and suddenly acted angry, said something obscene towards the machine, self conscious. I couldn’t think of anything to do. I was 12 blocks from home and had empty pockets. I wanted to help, even just help him laugh it off, but then he was walking away much faster than he came, for my benefit. And I couldn’t think of anything to do.

Later, there was some kind of job interview being conducted at this cafe while I was having coffee. Inside was a table with a woman conducting interviews, outside several people were hunched over clipboards, sitting in metal chairs filling out one-page applications and waiting to be called in . One woman outside was talking to herself loudly about nothing to do with the application questions. I think she was reciting a grocery list or ingredients to a recipe.

The woman doing the interviews paused to notice it through the glass door, looking a little disgusted. Then the next applicant sat down and the well-rehearsed interview started again, “First I’d like to remind you that starting wage for this position is minimum wage.” He nodded, aware of the fact that several people looked up from their coffee at the words “minimum wage”. He was wearing a tie.

Another man was sitting at at table with his two little girls playing Uno. They were too young for Uno. The dad kept saying things like “It’s just a game…. take as much time as you need sweetheart” as if he was reading lines from a script. But the lines were for everyone but the girls. He kept looking at his watch and when the girls lost track of whose turn it was and started giggling, he didn’t even break a smile but sighed in frustration… completely cold, completely unendeared.

The older of the girls was old enough to notice. Her round little face looked at him, wounded, like someone 20 years older. The game of Uno quieted down.

I had to move outside. Steam and sun warm on my face, cold air sharp in my nose, almost-too-hot coffee in my mouth. Sometimes I need reminders to be thankful.