Today, I met a brother from Mississippi. We were both out for a nightly stroll around Downtown Jacksonville when our paths converged. I had my earphones in and not really focused on anything but my own walk.
I saw in his eyes that he wanted to ask me a question, so I dropped my eyes to avoid the welcome. He kept walking towards me so I took out my earphones, made eye contact, and spoke to him. Immediately he thanked me for not looking down on him and actually speaking to him — he told me he was my brother and was down on his luck. Honestly, I felt bad because that wasn’t my initial response.
He told me served in the Air Force over 40 years ago and as a boy, he would work in a cotton field to earn money.
His eyes were dark and still. I could tell he had seen many days — some good, some bad, and some really long. But still, there remained a small glimpse of hope. He told me he was thirsty and wanted a big, cold bottle of water from the 7-Eleven up the road. He asked for change, but I didn’t have any. So, I said aloud, “I don’t know if I have any money on me.” Sometimes, my thoughts escape me before I have the chance to identify them and choose another.
While I was reaching for my wallet he made a reference to the size of my chest and decided to take a step back. I laughed and told him he was cool because I didn’t feel threatened. I pulled out my wallet and found two $1 dollar bills. I didn’t even know they were there, so you can imagine how surprised and grateful we both were. I gave him those two dollars.
He thanked me and thanked me again for talking to him and treating him like a brother. He said, “I much rather ask for assistance from you than to have to ask a white person. They don’t acknowledge me. And when they do they make me feel lesser.”
I understood and told him to not to consider this a hand-out, but a hand-up. I made a joke about that being my last two dollars (it was lol) and made a shameless reference to Johnnie Taylor. He chuckled and gave me the third degree, “Watchu know bout dat youngin’?” Then he started playing and threw a light jab at my chest like an older brother playfully challenges his bigger younger brothers resolve and strength out of love — it didn’t land though. We smiled and joked about my size again. Then I noticed throughout our exchange, the small glimpse of hope in his eyes had grown. In those brief moments, we had given each other more than what we asked for or even expected.
Today, I met a brother from Mississippi and he turned two dollars into gold.