Outside a Video Store in Berkeley, CA

It wasn't until an hour had passed and I was getting up to return to my house that he told me his name was Kenneth.

Kenneth Winters. A pretty normal sounding name, I'd say. Who do you picture when you hear that name? I picture someone aristocratic, perhaps with a stiff, starched collar and dress shirt.

That's not who Kenneth Winters is, though. Kenneth is a man I met today outside of the video store. Earlier today I read this article from a daily, positive news email service called The Daily Good (http://www.dailygood.org/) It was an inspiring article about Jaime Escalante, a Bolivian-born teacher at a low-income mostly minority school in East L.A. Escalante helped high school kids--who no one thought could do a whole lot--to pass the AP Calculus test at an astonishing success rate. Anyway, the article mentioned there was a movie made in 1988 called Stand and Deliver about Escalante's story (http://www.dailygood.org/view.php?qid=4075)

So naturally, I went to the video store to pick it up. I got to the store feeling a little rushed, because I had a plan: get my video quickly, get home and spend an hour making a nice lunch, maybe go on a run, then meet my faculty advisor to get my major approved. That's some plan!

I parked my bike outside the store and there was this black, elderly man sitting on a couple of milk crates selling a paper called The Street Spirit. It's common in Berkeley for homeless people to sell this paper for a dollar. What do you do when you see a homeless person? Today I felt a little guilty and the thought went through my head, "Well, I can't give money to all of them, now can I?" I gave him a quick smile and averted my eyes, so I could get inside and stick to my plan. I bought the movie and I received 65 cents in change. "Perfect," I thought, "I'll just give the guy outside this change and go on my way."

I gave him the money, which was 35 cents short of the one dollar fee for the paper, and he said, "Here, take a paper."

I took the paper, even though maybe some days I wouldn't have. And even on those days when I would have taken the paper and half-heartedly looked at some of the articles about the plight of the homeless and gotten disillusioned and discouraged and thrown it away, I usually wouldn't have sat down to read it. Why did I sit down on this day?

I don't know, but I did. I sat down next to the friendly, elderly man wearing what we would consider raggedy clothing and a black raiders cap, and I tried to read a couple of the poems in the paper he had given me.

We started talking, as two people who are just sitting there and aren't trying to get anywhere are prone to do. He didn't have his iPhone and I didn't have my Blackberry, so logically we started conversing. I think I asked him how often people said yes to him and bought a paper.

And then started an hour long conversation that moved me, moved me enough to come back here and write it down. We got this idea to write a poem together, to maybe submit to The Street Spirit newspaper someday. So I got out my very pretty Parker pen.

This guy could talk. I just had to sit and listen. He surprised me by being incredibly eloquent and well-versed. He talked about time, and patience, and the ability to accept a lot of no's. He quoted the Bible, a passage from James about being quick to listen. And he laughed quite a bit, the whole time in fact, looking off into the distance and laughing, and laughing. And to every person, every single person who walked by him, he smiled and laughed and looked them in the eyes and said, "Hey, how you doing, you have a good day now!"

I wrote down his words, and contributed a couple of my own thoughts. And the whole time, as me and this guy were sitting against the wall outside the video store, him on a milk crate and me on the ground, people were coming and going, going and coming. Someone would walk into the video store, and he'd tell them, "Maybe on your way out." And then they came out. Most said no. About half looked at him. Some didn't even respond to his question. And a few stopped and gave him the change they had received. One guy even gave him a 5 dollar bill and a smile!

And then things got really crazy. This guy walks into the store, and when he comes out, he stops to talk to me and Kenneth. It turns out this guy is a bus driver for the UC Berkeley perimeter line-and Kenneth used to be too! We all chatted for a while and Kenneth remained philosophical and laughing and the guy eventually got on his bike and left.

I want to include Kenneth's quote from the Bible, because I think it symbolizes nicely what all this was about.

"Be quick to listen,
slow to speak,
and slow to anger."

Kenneth said, "You know, everyone's got a story. That lady who just walked in has a story, just like you and me have stories. Even the wind has a story if you listen to it."

This homeless guy I almost didn't bother to make eye contact with just said to me one of the most beautiful things I've ever heard. Even the wind has a story. Even the guy you see on the street who looks crazy or scary or drunk has a story. Even that person you hate because they're so annoying, or so mean, they have a story too. That, I did not expect.

Why do we turn our heads? When someone looks at us and asks for money, why do we look away? Is it because we think that if we don't give them money we also can't give them a smile, that it's not worth anything? Or is it because it's painful to look at them, look at him, and see a human being who was born from a mother just like we were?

It's really painful. It's really painful to start seeing everyone as human. It's painful and yet at the same time, it is so fantastically beautiful, so vibrant, so full of love and truth.

I don't want to be moralistic here. Gandhi said, "Action expresses priority," and, "My life is my message." I merely wanted to relay a story that moved me. And I'm still asking myself, "Why did I go to that particular video store in Berkeley? And why did I stop and sit down? Kenneth's answer was, "God works in strange ways," as he looked skyward. That seems like as good an answer as any I can think of.

Here is the poem I transcribed, of Kenneth's words:

Time,
Patience,
and the ability to accept a lot of no's.

Add some humor and
remember the yes's.
But don't forget the maybe's and next time's!

That equals life,
and today.

And then the quiet comes,
and we return:
Time,
Patience,
And the ability to accept:
Yes, no, maybe so.