One Dollar

When I tell people I live near downtown Sarasota, they get all starry eyed as their minds fill up with thoughts of beautiful high-rise condos and amazing sunsets.  Their fantasy melts like hot wax when I tell them my neighborhood is a few blocks to the north of downtown and it is composed of Hispanics, Blacks, and Whites, in that order.  I am not rich.  I don't have a partner, rich or poor.

As their thoughts of utopia wave bye-bye in their mind's rear view mirror, they come back to reality.

Because of Lithuanian descendants, I am dark haired with olive skin darkened even more by the sun.  When I take Poppy out for his walks, it isn't unusual for me to be approached by people.  He is a cutie-pie and we all know it!  They say, "¿Cómo está usted?" or "¿Cómo está?" It has happened enough that now I reply with, "Fine.  You?"  It is when they walk up to me and speak a whole lot of Spanish that I have to respond with, "I don't speak Spanish."

It is an interesting place to live and when I visit my mother, and I do every week, who lives in money-is-no-object suburbia, it is a bit of a culture shock.  There is no blending of the races because everyone is one race...at least that has been my experience so far.  I walk my dog there, too, but usually not alone as my mother has two of her own.  We do it together and our goal is getting to the dog park which is located around the block next to the kid's playground which is located next to the bocce ball area which is located next to the 2 pools and 1 Jacuzzi which are attached to the clubhouse.

What am I trying to say?  I live in a poor neighborhood.  I was in the Save-A-Lot a couple of nights ago for milk and being that it is the closest grocery store I opted for convenience.  As I am walking to my car with a box bottom filled with a few heavy items, I see a man holding money in his hands counting it.  I knew what was going to happen and instead of turning my head signaling that he should not approach me, I kept looking at his unshaven face as I rested the box on my trunk.  As he walked over to me he said, "Ma'am.  Do you have 79 cents?  I am embarrassed to have to ask but I need...."  I couldn't make out exactly what he needed it for but it didn't matter.  Was it the truth anyway?  I would never know.  I opened my wallet and counted my change.  "I only have 54 cents," I said.  His face fell with disappointment and the bubble over his head read,"What am I going to do now?"  He wasn't expecting me to finish my sentence with, "So here is one dollar."  I took it out of my wallet and gave it to him.  As he reached out his hand to take it, he was a bit stunned.  Then thanked me and thanked me again and wished me a great night.  He was smiling and all it took was one dollar.  What he doesn't know is that he made me more happy than I made him.  I felt it best to leave it at that.