Sign o’ the times


Monday morning, suburban Chicago

I went inside to pay for the gas I had just pumped, and was on my way to the drink fountain when I noticed the trash can. And sitting on the top were at least a half dozen wrapped breakfast sandwiches. There’s a story about how they got there, I’m sure, but you wouldn’t have to go very far from the gas station I was at to find someone who could really use a  breakfast sandwich.

America is a land of great opportunities, but also a land of great disparities. If the will existed to feed the less fortunate, those sandwiches wouldn’t be staring up at me as I put a straw into my drink. And if I had an inclination to inquire on the spot, something could have happened to help someone out. But the struggle to get by in 2014 extends to me, too. My lunch breaks aren’t unlimited, unfortunately.

Blame society, blame me, blame a culture that has desensitized us to the suffering that exists in this affluent nation we live in. And while you’re at it, think about ways we can make things better.

One thought on “Sign o’ the times

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