The Good Life...

I love sharing stories. It is cathartic for me to pour my thoughts and heart out in words. There are many stories that I hesitate to share because they just seem so self-serving. My intent is never to seek praise, but just to let words flow to help me better understand my experiences. However, some experiences are persistent and permeate my thoughts when I try to sleep at night until I commit them to writing. I think about all the writings and the sharing of experiences of others who made me who I am today. Thus, I will continue to publicly write and share, and in all honesty, sometimes I will read something from years ago which had already left my memory until rekindled by reading my own words.

Not every encounter of mine is as rewarding but all have lessons. The other afternoon, I was walking down King Street and noticed a disheveled middle-aged Korean woman pulling things out of her shopping cart and then sitting down talking to herself on the sidewalk. I surreptitiously pulled a ten dollar bill from my wallet as I approached and prepared to offer it to her. Something in my na'au felt uneasy, but instead of listening to my instincts, my desire to do a good act numbed my senses. 

As I walked past her, I stuck out my hand with the money, smiled and said, "This is for you..." No sooner had she seen the money, she erupted in raucous yelling that echoed up and down the street. I immediately stuck my hand back in my pocket and hurriedly walked away. She continued screaming and yelling making a scene. I knew the people across the street at the bus stop were all watching intently and I could feel my face going flush as I continued walking away as quickly as I could from a very agitated person. I worried about everyone around looking at the scene and thinking, "What horrible thing did that evil man do?" As the yelling subsided in the distance, I chuckled to myself. "Oh well...at least I tried." Such bombastic encounters have been very far and few between however in over a decade of street charity. Fear of such blow-ups are a prime reason why many people don't engage street people in any manner. 

So one night about a week ago, I decided to go to Foodland which is across the street from my apartment. It was really late, about 11:30 p.m. and the area can be a little sketchy late at night. I walked across the street and towards the entrance to the store. There, seated on a cold concrete bench in front of the store entrance was a dark huddled mass of humanity, picking at a small tray of food, and holding on to a small walker with plastic bags tied all over it. 

I just wasn't in the mood for any interactions and thought I recognized the individual as an older local male with scruffy white beard who used to live in a car behind the Foodland. He had always asked me for money over the years, ever since the fateful day I approached him and gave him something. He used to get chased away from the store entrance by the manager or security every once in awhile for panhandling. Even more so, I desired no encounter or charity that night. 

So I made myself invisible in my thoughts and kept my eyes focused on the ground. No energy towards him that would cause him to look up, recognize me, and utter, "Hey bruddah! You get some change for spare?" Fortunately, as I passed him, he was more focused on his little food morsels in his little tray. 

I entered the Foodland, and did my shopping. I also went to Redbox and rented two movies because my boys love to watch movies together with me, especially Elliott, and he would be leaving soon on a Summer sojourn. It was a great experience shopping as I ran into my Beautiful friend Hau'oli's wife and son. The cashier, Sharon, was always nice to me too.

So at the cash register, I realized I only had a twenty-dollar bill in my wallet, and although the bill was just short of twenty dollars, I decided to save my cash, and paid for the food with my credit card. As I exited the store into the darkness, I braced myself again for the man recognizing me and pleading for money. As I lowered my energy again, and made myself invisible, I passed without incident, much to my relief. I felt somewhat selfish and guilty however. 

Upon arriving home, I unloaded my bags and then went to prepare the DVD player for one of the movies. Then it hit me. The movies. I felt my pockets and they were empty. I quickly went to check my grocery bag and to my shock, it was empty too. I stood there quickly backtracking, and remembered that I had placed the two movies onto the little table by the register used for writing out checks. Oh no... I had forgotten them there with a long line of people behind me. My heart stopped. I quickly put my shirt back on, grabbed my keys, put on my shoes and went out into the hallway to push the elevator button. 

The elevator seemed to take days to arrive. I went downstairs and waited for the stoplight, all the time thinking that someone scored two movies at my expense. I thought about the credit card charges to replace two lost movies. I was sick to my stomach as movie night was just cancelled in the worst way. 

As I quickly walked across the street when the light changed, and towards the store entrance, I saw that dark huddled mass again. For a brief moment of pure Hope, I thought to myself, if my movies are still there, I will give that twenty in my pocket to this man. At the same time, I also felt pangs of guilt for conditioning charity and Aloha on whether I suffered a financial loss or not. 

As soon as I entered the store, I quickly glanced over to the register I used, which still had a long line of customers, and to my chagrin, didn't see the telltale red plastic DVD boxes where I had left them. As soon as my Heart sunk, Sharon, the cashier, recognized me from a distance and smiled, pointed towards the seafood section, and said, "They are at Customer Service." My face lit up and I smiled and waved at her, and said, "Thank you!" 

I quickly walked over to the service counter where a young girl was working on something, and she looked up at me. I said that she might have my two DVD movies. She picked up the movies bound together in a rubber-band and inquired, "Kai Markell?" I excitedly said, "Yes!" She smiled and gave them to me. I was so humbly Blessed that Sharon remembered my name and saw the DVD movies. I was on Cloud Nine...and thanked Ke Akua and my Angels for saving me. I asked there forgiveness for being so absentminded and making them always work overtime to help me.  Upon exiting, I waved and smiled at Sharon and thanked her again from a distance while customers in her line all looked at me quite puzzled. 

Upon exiting, I reached into my pocket and pulled out my twenty-dollar bill to make good on my silent promise. As I passed the man, still intently focused on picking at his food, I extended my arm out and downward and held out the bill, and softly said. "Uncle...this is for you..." It was then that I noticed his little bento box partially filled with little morsels of unrecognizable meat and rice strewn about. I noticed his walker, dented and a little worse for the wear, and covered with plastic bags tied together and filled with his Life. I saw his feet, bruised and purple, swollen ankles, and open sores on his feet. My heart sunk. He slowly reached out and gently took the bill from my hand, and looked intently at it, turning it over and over, all the while keeping his head down. 

It was at that moment that he uttered, "Wow..." and looked up at me. To my surprise, he wasn't the man I thought he was, in fact, I had never seen him before. He had a round Asian-Hawaiian face, long white hair and beard, and a pleasing countenance that reminded me of Buddha smiling.  His eyes were a little offset with astigmatism. He glanced back down at the bill in his hand, then back up at me, craning his neck to look up, and asked, with expressive wide eyes, "Are you Jesus?" 

Feeling embarrassed, I chuckled and quickly said, "No...but Christ is a good friend of mine." It was then that chicken skin went up my back and arms in a electrifying wave, as I glanced over to the entrance of the store which was less then ten feet away, where over fifteen-years earlier, I had an encounter with a runaway Hawaiian boy, who was either a ghost, an Angel, or possibly Christ himself, that to this day, remains the most emotionally impactful encounter I had ever had in my Life. 

I looked back down at this man's smiling face. He looked back down at the bill in his hand, turning it around and around, and said, "Wow..." again. He looked up at me and with his Beautiful worn and smudged face, and with another huge smile, said, "You have a kind Heart."

I was so touched, and still felt guilty for bypassing him three times in a row, and conditioning my charity on my absentmindedness and the goodwill and honesty of strangers in the store. At that point, not wanting to have him crane his neck to look up at me, and disliking looking down upon him, I squatted down so we were face to face. I knew my knees wouldn't last long and getting back up was going to painfully laborious the longer I squatted, but it seemed like the right thing to do. 

I looked at him, and said, "You take care my friend. I'll see you again." He smiled and laughed, then replied, "I'll see you again when I am living the good Life up there," as he looked up towards the Heavens and pointed with his hand. 

I smiled, and as he looked back at me, I said, "I will see you again...down here."

He smiled and said, "People want to get me off of the street. But this is my home. I love the street!" All the while laughing his hearty infectious laugh again. 

I knew my knees were about to lock in place so I patted him on the shoulder, and said, "You take care my brother. I love you...I'll see you again."

He smiled at me with his warm and inviting countenance again, and again said,"What a kind heart you have..."

I looked at him and said, "What a Beautiful smile you have."

He showed me  his smile could grow even bigger and brighter at that point. 

I added, "Take care brother...see you soon..." as I strained to pull myself up with locked knees and numb thighs. He returned to picking at his food. 

I walked home in quiet amazement. Humble gratitude. Thinking about the encounter I just had. What led to it. But for forgetting my DVD's, I would never have returned to Foodland that night, and never have met my new friend. I felt bad for not asking him his name. I had never seen him before in almost twenty years of living in that area. Sadly, I haven't seen him yet again. 

To be honest. I miss him already. I miss his positive attitude. I miss his Bright smile. I miss his infectious laugh. I miss his gratitude and humility and genuine kindness.  I so want to see him again. To help him out some more. To learn his name. Everyone deserves a name. To talk with him. To let him know people care. To let him know again he is Loved. I pray for his well-being. For his Healing. Physical. Mental, Emotional. Spiritual. Whatever Thy Will...

I told him that I would see him again. Down here. I hope that is true. Regardless however, I do look forward to seeing him again "up there." When he is Living the Good Life. 

And I want to humbly thank my new friend, for gifting me, the Good Life. Down here...