The Tale of Two Extremes
My son had driven me to my cousin’s in Upstate New York. Beside being my cousin, she is also my dentist. I am having some work done on my teeth. On our way back, he made a stop to run a quick errand. I waited in the car, while he did so. As was my habit, I people watched. I have been doing that since I was a young girl. Sometimes my imagination runs wild, and I dream up colorful lives for the people I observe. In my thoughts, I weave wildly elaborate tales about their imagined adventure.
That day my son found a spot to park the car in front of a Burger King on a busy street. In front of the fast food joint was a large garbage can. As I sat waiting for him to come back, I noticed a drab-looking man on an old rickety bicycle pedaling towards that can. On the handle of his bike hung several plastic bags filled with goodness knows what. He slowed down and peered into the can. He got off the bike, stuck his head into the can, and proceeded to rummage through the garbage. Soon, he retrieved half-eaten hamburgers and cold, unappetizing French fries, unopened small bags of ketchup, and honey mustard dressing. He carefully emptied half-finished soft drinks into a larger container. At one point, he nearly lost his balance as he delved into the garbage. Some of it spilled onto the sidewalk. To my astonishment, he very conscientiously bent down, picked it up, and put it back into the can. I was expecting him to leave it on the ground. At that point, my eyes filled up with tears. This man might look like a bum, but who knew what circumstances led him to this moment? Just because he was scrounging around the garbage can didn’t mean he was a bad person, a lout? It just meant that he was hungry and had fallen on hard times.
Earlier in the day, as we drove up to Ossining for my dental appointment, I noticed a black, sleek, and shiny high Sprinter, a high-ceilinged bus-like nine-seater station wagon with a passenger license plate cruising along in front of us. Except for the driver, no one was in it! It was a gas guzzler if I ever saw one! What wastefulness, I thought. It reminded me of one of my neighbors many years ago. She was a frumpy-looking, extremely heavy, and short woman. She looked like a roly-poly dumpling. She insisted on driving a high Mercedes Benz station wagon. To climb into the car, she used a little folding step that she left by the driver’s seat to aid her in and out of her oversized car. I sometimes wondered why she did not drive a car that was more manageable. But then again, what do I know?
My mind returned to the poor man who scavenged for food in the garbage dump. Surely there must be a happy medium. We live in New York, one of the wealthiest cities in the country! How can these two extremes exist side by side? It is so incongruous!