Not Just About a Sandwich

One day about eight years ago, my son Ivan and I went into convenience store near my condo in San Diego.  I knew he didn’t have much money, so I was surprised when he bought a sandwich, because he could have eaten for free when we got to my place in a few minutes.  When we left the store he handed the sandwich to a man outside who had clearly been living on the street a long time.  

He told me he always tried to do that whenever he had any money to spare. He knew the distance between him and that man was not that great, and the difference was that he had me to protect him.  I remember how proud I felt to have raised a son with so much empathy and desire to turn that into action.

Ivan is gone now, off discovering what happens after we leave this earth, but the lesson he taught me that day has stuck with me.  When I see people down on their luck outside a grocery store, I buy a sandwich for them.  I leave a 20% tip for servers who did no more than hand me a muffin, because I know they might be worried about making their rent.  Every time, it brings Ivan’s spirit close to me, and that feels so good.

I had an interesting experience today walking home from the gym.  I had stopped to pick up a sandwich for lunch and I passed two men, both obviously down on their luck, one quite old for a street person and the other probably not yet out of his twenties. Both had the look of people for whom life had not gone right for a long time.  I walked past, but within a few steps, Ivan’s essence surrounded me so palpably that I stopped walking. “I can keep it. It’s my lunch,” I argued with myself for just a few seconds, but I knew what I had to do.

I walked back and offered the sandwich to one of the men, He was nearly toothless and his clothes had not been washed in a long time. He took the sandwich, looked at it for a moment and handed it back.  “You see that guy,” he said pointing to the other man. “I’m okay.  He needs it more than I do.”

The younger man took it with grateful enthusiasm, and a bit of shock at the kindness, which he erroneously attributed to me.  I wish I had pointed to the first man and said, “He’s the one who gave it to you,” but I wasn’t quick enough for that. The rest of the way home I thought about who the Laurel was who had argued even for a moment, how the old man’s act of loving kindness far surpassed my own, and how it really had been Ivan who set the whole thing in motion.

I have my doubts about altruism.  Most of my good deeds have the immediate reward of ego gratification.  I’m pretty good at hitting the tip percentage button without giving it a thought, because Hindu teaching says that the minute you congratulate yourself for a good deed, the benefit to your soul is negated.  To act well without feeling proud of oneself is the key to spiritual progress. Maybe I’ll get there some day, but for now, I’ll listen to my son and just try to do my best.