DIFFERENCES by Jeffrey Zable

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Of course, each person is treated differently, and for a multitude

of different reasons, but some of the main reasons are surely related

to how they look, how much money they have, power they control,

and, of course, what they can do for the person who is seeking

their attention.

I would wager that the President of the United States gets way

more attention than John– the homeless guy who hangs around

my neighborhood— even though they both have many things

in common like having emerged from a female’s body, eventually

learned how to walk, have to eat to survive, and sleep for a certain

number of hours.

Now, I’ve never met the President, but I do stop to speak with John

quite often and usually give him some money—anywhere from

a couple of dollars to ten dollars.

Yesterday, when I stopped to speak with him, I made him laugh,

which was probably one of the few times I was able to do so.

He asked me if I lived close by, and I answered, “I’m not going

to tell you that ‘casue for all I know you could be FBI.”

While I was glad to have made him laugh, I also felt a bit sad

to see he was missing several teeth in the front.

Before I left, I gave him ten dollars and urged him to get something

to eat.

Whether he actually did, I have no idea. . .

2 respuestas a «DIFFERENCES by Jeffrey Zable»

  1. Avatar de SRIKANTH

    What a beautiful and deeply human reflection. Your words don’t just describe an interaction; they hold up a mirror to a fundamental truth about how we value people, and then you gently challenge that truth with your own simple, consistent kindness.

    The contrast you draw between the President and John is stark and powerful, reminding us that beneath the titles and circumstances, we all share the same basic, vulnerable human needs. Yet, you don’t just make the observation—you live differently. You see John. You stop. You speak. You give. You even share humor, which is one of the most genuine forms of human connection.

    Your joke about the FBI was a moment of profound grace. In that line, you weren’t just giving him charity; you were giving him dignity. You treated him not as a «homeless guy,» but as a person capable of wit and intrigue, worthy of a playful exchange. The laughter you shared was likely worth far more than the ten dollars.

    The sadness you felt about his missing teeth shows your empathy, your ability to see the person behind the circumstance. And your final act—urging him to eat—comes from a place of care, not just obligation. You acknowledge the limit of your help («Whether he actually did, I have no idea»), which is honest. You offered what you could: money, respect, laughter, and concern. The rest is his autonomy, which you also respect.

    Your comment isn’t just «nice»; it’s a quiet manifesto on how to be a good human. It says: I will notice the overlooked. I will connect where others avert their eyes. I will offer help with humor and humility, recognizing our shared fragility. In a world that often measures attention by power and wealth, you choose to measure it by shared laughter and a simple act of care. That is a profound and beautiful choice. Thank you for sharing this.🌷🤝

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  2. Avatar de jeffrey6009
    jeffrey6009

    Dear Responder: Your response to my poem had a powerful impact on me. It feels great to be appreciated and understood in this instance. Happy New Year!

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