A Day of Serendipity

My biggest complaint when I eventually meet the man upstairs is going to be that there just weren't enough hours in a day for a person to really live. I slogged through work (granted my job isn't the living hell so many others seem to have to suffer), made it to 5 pm and I was out the door to go to a class, which I had to sneak out on early to head to Wallingford for the monthly Amnesty meeting. I got to fight back tears as I listened to the speakers describe human rights abuses by the Chinese state against the people of Tibet. The meeting ended around nine, and by this point I was buzzing on a triple latte and simply NOT ready for my usual bedtime. With empty paper cup in hand I walked over to 15th Ave to wait for the 48 bus, and as I got to the stop I saw an older black man leaning against a garbage can, slightly hunched over. He appeared to be dozing off. As I went behind him to throw my paper cup away I noticed a weathered-looking leather bag plugging the hole where the opening to the trash can was supposed to be. I awkwardly cleared my throat and asked him in a friendly voice if the bag was his. He woke up. He moved his bag. We had a conversation. I was in for a shock, though, because the man with the leather bag was Zaid Abdul-Aziz, former pro basketball player for the Sonics.

I wound up heading home with a signed copy of his recent book in my hand and a whole slew of incredible stories. Hearing them made my mind spin.
"You are truly an accomplished man," I said.
"No, no," he laughed, shaking his head. "I'm just a brother from Brooklyn." I replied that if I ever make anything out of this life I suppose I had better remember to tell everyone that I'm just a sister from Seattle.

As I got on the bus, he asked me if he could be completely honest. I said sure.
"You're not like other Asians!"
Huh?
"They do this little jog when they see me. They run away. And they don't even know me. You didn't do that little jog."
I really wasn't sure what to say to that. What do you do when you see another human being who is just trying to live? Just like you?

I'm coming to realize myself as the oddball who fearlessly talks to every stranger on the street. Most of the time this is really not a bad thing. But I suppose I should be a bit more careful lest I find myself in a situation where that little jog might become necessary.

By the way, you should know about this terrific coffee shop on 2nd Ave called the Mosaic, located in the basement of a church with excellent espresso and run entirely by guilt-driven donations. Okay, with Amnesty hosting its meetings there now, LOTS and LOTS of guilt-driven donations.