Counting my blessings

Last night, we went to the local Walgreens to pickup a prescription. After 20 minutes in the magazine aisle, the pharmacy paged my name over the loud speaker. As I finished paying for my prescription, I remembered I need brown shoe polish. Working on a limited budget this fall, I decided to wear last year's brown shoes again this year and they are in need of some TLC. So after a few minutes of debating between actual polish or scuff remover, I decided on a tin and worked my way to the front of the store to the cash registers. There were two registers open, at which two separate customers were currently being helped. Hovering between the two lines, I observed the customer in the line to my right. Immediately, I notice dozens of silver coins laid out across the counter. The customer, a man, is counting them out while the cashier is waiting patiently. "Are you kidding me?!? So f*%!ing typical North Portland!" I say to myself, when just then, I get a closer look at the customer. I could hardly believe my eyes--it has been over 13 years, but I recognized him immediately.

13 years ago he would not have been caught dead paying for anything in quarters, let alone dimes and nickels. When I knew him, he was a total label whore, only Nordstrom brands. Back then we were such good friends. We went to all the parties together and even hosted a few of our own. We talked for hours on the phone. We spent many weekends hanging out and drinking Boones. Our senior year, we drifted apart, but he always held a special place in my heart because we had been such good friends at one point. After high school, he sort of slipped out of the scene. Few people know much about his whereabouts and I had heard he had fallen on hard times. There were rumors that he became involved in drugs and stopped talking to anyone. Seeing him there, counting out handfuls of change, I felt sorry for him. I turned to D and said,

"Oh my God! That's B. I.! I haven't seen him since high school!"
"Say something to him."
"Like what? I don't know what to say."
"He was a friend of yours wasn't he? Say 'hi', I mean shit, you used to hang out with him right?"
"I can't!"

And just then, the other register opened up. So I ran, leaving B. behind to continue counting up his change. We were done before him, and like a coward, I snaked out the door to the car without saying a word. I watched the doors, trying to catch one last glimpse. Back out on Lombard, I finally spotted him again, on foot crossing the street to Greeley. As we drove past, another car honked which caused B. to look up, at which point our eyes briefly met. It was dusk out, so I don't know that he could see me clearly. At least there was no look of recognition in his eyes. Besides, who is to say that he didn't recognize me in the store and was playing the same game of avoidance?

It really got me thinking about just how fortunate we really are. We take so many things for granted. I discount my car because it is a Honda Civic. I discount my house because it's old and it's in North Portland. I discount my job because I am not CEO. I am always wishing for more not realizing or even appreciating the many wonderful things that I am fortunate enough to have.

It also got me thinking a lot about why I didn't say anything. Did I think that he would be embarassed? Or is the truth really that I was embarassed for him? And then, I ask, who the hell do I think I am passing judgement on him? Why did I just assume he should be embarassed? Or maybe a part of me was afraid of his reaction? I don't know, but I am almost wishing I would have said something. The truth is I am terrible at these things.

A few weeks ago, D and I were at dinner when I recognized an old schoolmate. He was waiting on the tables in the section adjacent to where we were seated. I couldn't be sure, so I pointed him out to D. At which time, D walks over to the bathrooms and I see him stop to say something to this guy.
"Hey are you related to so-and-so?"
"Yes."
"I thought so because you look just like her."
"That's funny, people usually ask if I am related to so-and-so (his other sister)."
"Yeah, I am here with my wife R B and she thought she recognized you."

End of conversation. So now D comes back from the bathroom to relay the conversation and says,
"You should go say 'hi'."

At this point, I am irritated.

"Why did you even have to say anything? Now if I don't go over and say something, I am going to look like a stuck up snob! Argh!"

Again, what is the big deal, right? Why didn't I just say 'hi'? At least in this case, I was not particularly close to this guy. But still, someone with good breeding probably would have had the decency to at least acknowledge the guy, right? So what's my problem? I think I need to work on this one a little.