Derek Gwinn

                                                                                3/17/03

                                                                                Hefner

                                                                                Adv. Writing

Looking Through Different Lenses

        The subway: it is a place full of mystery and unknown things. Thousands of people flock in and out of the subways everyday, and each one has a different story that explains their life. Whenever I ride the subway I question the people that surround me: has the guy sitting next to me ever committed a crime before? Has he ever hurt or dismantled someone? Does he have any beliefs or morals? Or, is he that guy that goes through the same basic routine everyday: goes to work, goes home, and then goes to sleep? There are infinite amounts of questions that you could ask that would define each person’s life. We all resemble spectators in our own sense by questioning the people around us. The mysterious life that each and every one of us leads heightens the sense of interest from “us” surrounding spectators.

His raggedy clothes were darkened from the amount of dirtiness, along with his overall appearance. He walked with a certain type of stagger: His right foot would drag along the ground every time he tried to step forward. He was the standout passenger among everyone else on the train. His eyes were bloodshot red, predictably from drugs or alcohol, and his arm was in a cast. He stuttered and slobbered on himself whenever he talked. He struggled over to each and every person on the moving locomotive and asked for any helping contributions:

        “Sir, may I trouble you for some spare change?”

        It was the same line over and over, and many people showed no compassion, as the beggar was given the cold shoulder almost every time. How could you not feel sorry for this feeble man? People have a way of stereotyping many things. They probably assumed that this poor man was going to spend money on something other then food, and maybe he was. Philanthropy contributions are chances that one takes, trusting that the received party uses the contribution wisely.

 When he approached me, I went against the group and helped the homeless victim. He graciously thanked me for my contribution, gave me a piece of paper, and slowly descended down the cab, continuing his begging routine. I cautiously opened the piece of paper, and on it was a type of scribble. I could hardly make out the words, but with much effort I decoded the message. It said, “To give, means to get ten fold back, to ignore…….” I couldn’t make out the last sentence. To ignore what? There was so much dirt on the page that it made things nearly impossible to make out.

Join now!

I watched the unfortunate homeless man as he made his way down the cab. The way he staggered and slumped over as he walked, made him seem so helpless. However, the persistent beggar was a little more conniving and tactful then everyone had expected from his outward appearance.

        As the train became more compact, the air become more and more thin, and the people started to become restless. The beggar continued to ask for money, but it seemed like the people were becoming more resistant as more people jammed onto the train. Petty soon the train became so compact that ...

This is a preview of the whole essay