I stepped out of the ophthalmologist’s office into cloud covered defused light that passed pain through my dilated pupils. Squinting, I stumbled down the stairs to the sidewalk, where a smiling gent walked up and asked for a “favor”. My apologetic tone conveyed clear response: No cash. I meant to bring a five-dollar bill, in case somebody asked, but left it behind when rushing out the door to walk to the doctor’s office.
But he didn’t ask for money. He wanted me to bless him. To wish him happy birthday. He is 37 years-old today. I did both. We separated, and I regretted not asking to take his photo. How often does something so straightforward occur? He wasn’t grifting or panhandling. The fellow simply sought birthday wishes.