The Tortilla Curtain

As I was driving on my way to the Nexus of Commerce, that store which we call Target, I saw a common sight: a homeless man, in this case a hispanic fellow, on the side of the road with a sign pleading for help.

I don't know what makes me stop short of being helpful each time. I always feel the urge to roll down my window and extend a pittance of cash to anyone who is stranded in life, but something always stops me. Is it mistrust? Is it fear? Maybe it's because I need that dollar for the laundromat when I get home, even though the person on the other side of the window probably hasn't worn clean clothes for weeks.

I just finished a novel entitled The Tortilla Curtain, which details the chain of bad luck encountered by a Mexican "illegal" and his wife, and a "libral-minded" resident of a wealthy cookie-cutter neighborhood who turns out to be as racist as the rest of society. I always think it's important to read these "perspective" novels in order to gain an empathy for the lot dealt to different people.

Then why didn't I extend even a dollar to that man tonight? Worse yet, why did I spend that dollar on a keychain in the shape of a shark that doubles as a bottle opener...when I don't even drink beer.

Is there hope for me? I can't help but to feel remorse after denying that man basic humanity. I can't help but feel ashamed at the comfort with which I sit on my chair, my belly sufficiently full and my body sufficiently cooled by a fan.

I know my mindset has much company, which makes me feel worse.

How can I part the curtain and share my blessings?