Transformational Moments

On Monroe Avenue sit the two most important stores in Rochester:

The Wegman's Flagship Store and PetCo.

And because everyone in Rochester wants to go to these stores, traffic is a slow-moving, bumper-to-bumper fat caterpillar of annoyance. So, you've got some time to observe life while you sit in your car and wait to be rear-ended by a Pittsford Wife talking on her cell phone in her Hummer. And by the way, why is she even going to Wegman's? It's not like she's consuming any calories that aren't in Chardonnay form.

But enough of my petty annoyances/holding the mirror up to reality.

It was on one such journey that I had a few moments to observer a down-trodden man sitting on a bench. He was scruffy -- greasy-bearded and dark, cloaked in a long, green threadbare coat, dirty jeans, and sneakers nicer than mine (what is that?). He was hunched over, his head hanging down, silent. And he was young. Maybe 25. And it broke my heart. What had happened to him to land him on the street? Was it the economy? Was it a failing grade in 10th grade PE that, like any of us, he didn't think would go on his permanent record and affect the rest of his life? When had he last eaten? Was anyone taking care of him? Who knew he was here? Or was he lost -- forgotten and alone, wandering?

And it occurred to me as I sat in my warm car, the one I complain is getting old and dirty, that I want to replace for no good reason, that I needed a shift in perspective. While I complain about what really are petty annoyances in my life, here was a man who had real problems. I needed to take a deep breath and realize that I have a great life; truly nothing to complain about. And while I contemplated that and its devastating impact on my writing "career," I looked a little closer at that inspirational man, that man who made me shift my perspective, to laugh at how much I had though I often think it's not much. He sat there. Head low. Hands in his lap. Was he praying? I might pray. Wait. He's not praying. Nope. He's texting.

Hobo is the new black.

And I will never stop complaining about petty things.