Between graduating from an arts conservatory in 2009 and accepting a teaching position at a private preparatory school in 2014, I wandered and traveled where my work and inspiration took me. My college years were not what I anticipated, and I left school determined to do things “my way” rather than join the entertainment industry. The 2008 economic crisis had already soured what faith I had in our digital financial system, and money became an illusory concept. Why pursue the accumulation of something that could easily be taken from me without warning or redress? If graduation was the start to a race, I moved like a tortoise: Slowly, deliberately, and without pressure to meet the finish line.
That said, I could not live without money. I needed some way to pay for my food and gas for my truck. My circumstances tested my relationship with money after I was robbed several times and forced to start over, weeks of work amounting to nothing. I sank deeper into depression, and pessimism dominated my thought process. I realized this in conversation with others, when I became aware I had nothing positive to offer anyone. People found me dark and difficult. I didn’t want to bring people down or complain, so I spent more and more time alone.
Around this time, 22 and broke, I began to question my choice. Should I have joined the industry and accepted a job that would offer me consistent payment, some benefits, and the pathway to a career, though at the expense of my heart, spirit, and passion?
As these thoughts swirled around my head, I met a smelly bum on a train in Chicago. He had a case of beer and offered the cans to other passengers. A couple people took the drinks and tried to offer him money, but he refused to accept it. In my curiosity, I asked him: “What are you doing, and why?”
He explained that something had happened to him in his life and he was utterly depressed, missing his recently deceased mother, and had a strained relationship with his sister. It came out in our talk that he was using his money to buy beers to offer to strangers in hopes of sharing a drink and conversation with someone. Confused and shocked, I sat down to continue our conversation. He smelled terrible but I appreciated his bright spirit, and despite our mutual depression, he expressed the same to me.
“I have no money to offer you,” I told him. I could barely afford the train.
“I don’t want anything else from you,” he responded. “How long we got before your stop?”
I enjoyed our 30-40 minute conversation, and didn’t get off the train at my stop. We rode to the end of the line and got on the other train heading back in the direction from which we came to continue to chat. We found camaraderie and solace in our conversation, and though his horrible odor could have repelled me, we hugged before departing. I suspected he was not a bum, or homeless person living on the streets, but a broken man bereft of direction.
“This is the best conversation I’ve had in a while,” he said as we embraced. I agreed, and we went our separate ways.
A month later, as I prepared to leave Chicago for Boston, I stopped by a convenience store on the north side of the city. After meeting the man on the train, I’d made a point to engage everyone, especially the bums. He gave me a new appreciation for the struggles of others and what leads people to make the choices that they do. Underneath his depression was potential, and potential exists in all living things. A belligerently drunk woman outside of the convenience store asked me for money, but I did not want to provide it because the last time I had, she used it on booze. She didn’t remember me or that I had given her money, and this frustrated me because I thought I had treated her with kindness in our interactions, and I didn’t have much money to begin with.
My disappointment with her had me second guessing myself. Had I been too nice and optimistic to the homeless since meeting the man on the train? In the middle of my reflection, I saw a man walking down the street. He looked familiar but I could not place him. Did I know him? Meanwhile, he was looking at me with a similar sense of confused recognition. He almost looked like the man on the train, but clean shaven and dressed in decent clothes.
“I’m sorry for staring, you just look familiar.” I smiled politely as he approached.
“Oh, I thought it could be you!” He responded with enthusiasm. Once I heard his voice, it confirmed his identity: A man transformed stood before me.
“After our talk,” he continued, “I called my sister. We had a great conversation and ‘cried it out’,” he joked. Suddenly his arms were around me and he was pulling me into an emotional hug.
“Thank you for that conversation. It meant a lot to me, and got me thinking about what I’m doing. I was trying to convince strangers to talk to me because I could not talk to my family.” Following his reunion with his sister, he found the motivation to turn his life around.
“I’ve been thinking of you and wishing I could thank you, and here we are.” He said, as we stood together on the street about a two hour train ride away from where we first met.
I am grateful for this experience because it reignited the flame of inspiration inside me. Crossing the man for the second time reminded me that opportunity is everywhere. I had new reverence for the power of community, and what can happen when two people genuinely share time with each other. My friends still considered me “dark and broody,” but I had more hope than before.
There’s merit to slowing down and engaging with people, I thought to myself. I found resolve in my decision to forgo the industry and the volatile promise of money that came with it. My goal became finding a career that would enable me to work with people and have a long-lasting positive impact on the world around me.
Following graduation, peers and classmates shot past me like hares, finding economic prosperity and the convenience it provides. I maintained my slow tortoise-like pace, conscious my goal would take time to achieve.
The Tortoise, The Hare, and My Study of Love (Part 1)
What a wonderful story - how serendipitous that you ran into the man again! So nice that you were both able to spend a moment reconnecting and thanking each other for the gifts that you each provided. Great writing on this one!
I love this substack. It’s making me feel less like an outlier all the ways I need to right now. Your intro post also finally gave me the words to describe why I end up longer winded than intended, and acted as a balm on the stinging insults of others too impatient for what I have to say.
Thank you, in other words. ❤️