There are only two kinds of people in this world. Good people who do good deeds. And bad people who do bad. That’s the only difference in human beings. There’s no other difference.
— Will Durant
— Civil rights leader and theologian Howard Thurman
Found a whole envelope full of these while cleaning the house today. These were in response to an essay I had written almost six years ago.
Dammit, I forgot to turn off the light in the gym again.
I take the elevator back to the fifth floor.
I open the door, and a small, middle-aged, dark-skinned man sees me and smiles. “Ey! Como esta?”
Whenever I stay late at the clinic, there’s always an inkling of me that wonders if I’ll meet him again, and it just so happens that this time, it is a light that rebridges that connection. This is our third encounter. The last time I met him was on the street; he caught me while I was leaving clinic at 5:30. He recognized my face and said hello.
I suddenly forgot the word for “turn off” in Spanish, so I point to the gym. Me olvidé turn off la luz.
“Ah, apagar la luz!”
Jose Hernandez. He is a construction worker from 8am to 5pm and a janitor from 5:30pm to 11pm. He emigrated from El Salvador and is trying to provide for his family here in America.
I am 22, a new college graduate from Chinese/Vietnamese roots who is working at a clinic while trying to become a doctor.
We conversate.
“Va a cocinar para el dia de accion de gracias?…Pollo o pavo?”
“Tiene una familia grande?…Tiene hijos?”
He takes out his phone and flips it open. “Estefani ya tiene quince anos.” He shows me a picture of his three children when they were younger to compare.
“Yo voy a Los Angeles donde vive mi familia. Originalmente no iba a ir pero recibi una entrevista en la escuela medicina de UCLA.”
“Que bueno!” He always speaks with such genuine happiness and excitement. He tells me how important it is that I’m educating myself and that I’m working hard towards my goal at such a young age. (He also tried to guess my age, of which he started out with 17…boy, was he surprised that I was actually 22!) He is proud of me, he says.
And this is what stops me. I’ve met him a total of three times, and he’s proud of me. It’s then that I realize how amazing it is that I’ve even been given the opportunity to connect with someone from such different circumstances. And in this instance, what seems like two people chatting in a hallway becomes the true beauty of diversity that we often take for granted.
He reminds me of the day we first met. I had stayed at the clinic past seven because I had to volunteer elsewhere that was close by at eight. He was cleaning the second floor and I was indexing medical records. “Me dijo ‘hola’ y me sorprendio…usted habla español!”
“Bueno, mas o menos,” I tell him with a laugh.
And it becomes six-o’-clock.
“Ah entonces ya tome mucho de su tiempo.” He takes my hand. “Me alegro que me encontré con usted. Buena suerte con todo!”
Igualmente, I tell him. Cuidese!
And it all started with an “Hola.”
Simple.
We are all stories to be told, so slow down and listen.
I’m the 771,778,788 richest person on earth!
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I entered my AmeriCorps living stipend ($12,100 pre-taxed), which qualifies me for food stamps and it tells me that I’m in the top 12.86% of the world? Granted that the calculations are based on 2003 figures, that still makes me sick.
