The homeless man
It was a homeless man with jaded eyes, ragged clothing and misshapen fingers that changed my life forever. I was at a low point in my life, living inside a bubble without ever protruding from the confortable confines of my existence. Each night, I would envelop my body with the silky warm covers of my bed and my consciousness would slowly ebb away. I was a ninth grade student living in a suburban middle class neighbourhood, without ever experiencing a day feeling hungry or unsatisfied.
On the other hand, Dad dedicated his life to providing subsidized meals for the homeless community. He would always vividly divulge the stories of his homeless customers and desperately encourage me to volunteer at the local shelter. As an act of rebellion against my father, I would never express any pity towards the homeless. Why should I feel sorry for someone who is lazy and unambitious?
Dad’s desperate optimism was met by the prospect of me attending Take Your Kids to Work Day. When my school mandated that all ninth grade students were to attend this day, Dad was ecstatic, despite my stern …show more content…
Thirty minutes later, we arrived at the Evelyne Saller Centre and I exited the car. I planted my foot onto the cracked sidewalk that looked as if someone had taken a sledgehammer to it and hit it into a large network of cracks. I then noticed a distinctly pungent and malodorous stench that filled the air. Contrary to the sweet smell of barbecues in my neighbourhood, the Downtown-Eastside had an unmistakable aroma. I then entered the centre and was immediately put to work. I sauntered around and numbly oiled the sticky tables with water. I then looked up and witnessed a greasy-haired man shovelling spoonfuls of food into his mouth and littering crumbs across the table. Amazed, I approached the man to investigate the scene I bared witness