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It was the Philadelphia trip in eighth grade, and I and a group of my fellow students were walking down the street. As we got to the corner of a busy street we noticed a man sitting on the corner sidewalk. He wore a worn heavy coat and a pair of shoes with holes in them. In his hand he had a Styrofoam cup that had a dollar or two and some coins. He really did look sad. As one of us past by him he said "Spare some change?" Naturally, being the good natured people we were, one of my friends stuck a dollar in his beat up cup. He was really grateful for it. So what does he do? He asks for another one. As more students start coming down the street he started getting a little bit louder. Someone else put a dollar in his cup. The man said "Thank you" and "bless you" like he was sincere. Then he started doing a little dance. While he danced he sang some lyrics to a popular song at the time. Another student gave him a dollar. Pretty soon, the man was up, jumping around, and smiling and singing. And after every minute another student gave him a dollar. Pretty soon, it seemed that everyone was in on the fun, everyone but me it seemed. So I gave the man a dollar. He acknowledged it with a "thanks," but that was all. I saw that the dollar didn't mean too much to him, but later I gave him another dollar just because it seemed that everyone else was paying him. Everyone in the crowd around the man was laughing and pointing as the man tried some crazy dance moves and made obscene gestures. I went over to my friend Dan and we talked about the man. He said it would be pretty funny if the man was actually a rich company owner or something. I said it would be funny, but then I got to thinking about what if he really wasn't poor. What if the man was on the streets just to get money out of rich kids like ourselves. The man sure didn't look sad, not now that he had a paying audience that give him a dollar to see him twirl around and pull on himself pretending to be Michael Jackson. Dan and I soon went to lunch down the street and on our way we past another homeless man sitting on a bench. He too had a Styrofoam cup. But in his cup there were only a couple quarters, not the thirty dollars the other man had when we were done with him. Dan and I felt sad seeing this lonely man sitting there with out any money after we had just finished giving our money to a man who we felt didnŐt really deserve it. On our way back from lunch Dan and I past the spot where the second homeless man was sitting. He was still there. I looked in my pocket and found a dollar I had gotten back in my change from lunch. I gave it to the man. He said "Thank You" like the other man, but this time I felt better giving him my money than when I gave it to the other man. After words, I wondered what my parents would have said had they known that I was giving money some poor people. They probably would have been happier knowing that I was giving the money to someone who really needed it, rather than a person who put on a show for money. Go Back To Homepage