A blind man

The other night some friends and I were walking back from a gathering at the Swig bar on 571 Geary. It was a Wednesday night, I believe.

There was a man on the streets who asked for money. His eyes were glazed over, making it pretty clear that he was blind. He asked us for money to ride the bus. I searched my pockets as usual, and found no change. So I wished him my luck. Then he asked in a kind voice, "where are you," and gently reached out his hand. I showed him where I was and he clutched my hand.

He said, "Let's protend you're a doctor. What do doctors do for people?"

"They try to help people," I responded.

"They cure people. Cure me. Fix my eyes." I wished that his words were true. If only doctors could really cure us.

But we left the man on the cold streets, just as doctors sometimes leave their patients with no cures. But the man was kind enough to leave me with the memory of him.

It's remarkable how kind and earnest the street people can be at times. There is much to be learned from them. They have witnessed some of the kindest and some of the worst human deeds. Even this blind man is less blind than he knows. (For so many people who can see with their eyes lack vision).