Thank you, Glen

Something happened to me on Wedneday that did a lot for my faith in human beings and maybe even in God.

I had a raging cold and had planned on taking the whole day off, but then I had to go into the office because we had another new employee starting, and then one thing led to another, and it was almost one by the time I left.

I was so exhausted I decided to drive rather than walk the six blocks to Whole Foods to get a salad for lunch. I noticed on the way that my car, which I hadn't driven in a couple weeks, seemed to be straining, and there was this strange flapping noise that seemed to be associated with my accelerations and deccelerations, but I just couldn't summon the energy to worry too much about it, until I got out of the car at the store to find that the left rear tire was completely flat. Like a pancake. Crap. So I decided to go in and get lunch and then sit at the tables outside and try to think what to do.

So I sat and I ate and I admit I even said a sheepish little prayer for help. I just couldn't imagine summoning the energy to change my tire, something I'd only done once in my life.

Finally I decided there was nothing to do but try to change the tire myself, so I went over and started unloading stuff from my trunk to get the donut out, and I hear this voice behind me: "Can I be of some assistance? I'm pretty good at changing tires." It was a somewhat dissheveled looking older African-American man. "Sure!" I said,  and stood awkwardly by while he jacked up the car, took off the bolts, and yanked on the tire. Which didn't budge. Even when we both pulled on it together. So then he offered to go over to the service station to get some WD-40. Without even thinking about it, I handed him the only cash I had, which was a $10. Then, a moment later, I admit that I wondered if I'd see him again.

But back he came with the cash and said that they recommended instead that we hit the tire from behind with a big hammer, but they wouldn't loan him a hammer without a $60 deposit, so I went over and got them to loan it to me for $10. (Even in Berkeley these differences in treatment pertain.) That finally worked, and we got the tire changed, and I asked him if he'd ride with me to the nearnest ATM so that I could give him something "for his trouble."

He said yes, and then in the car he told me his name was Glen and that he didn't know what had made him come around that side of the store earlier, that usually he walked down and around the other side to sell his papers. (That was the first point at which I realized he was homeless and had been going to sell the Street Spirit paper.) We also had a great conversation about my bumper sticker, the one that says "I think when Jesus said 'Love your enemies,' He might have meant 'Don't kill them.'" He said he thought the whole problem with our world is that people have all this anger that is right at the surface and ready to explode out at any moment. Can't argue with that. I gave him $60 because I figured that was what I could do for him, and changing tires and sharing his philosophy was what he could do for me, and I probably got the better end of the deal.