Don’t judge a book by its cover, that’s the saying. 

I had a post lined up this afternoon but while sitting on a park bench I saw something that, while probably not the most prolific of things, made me rethink the way I view everyday life.  My head was pounding from a sinus headache that, unfortunately, I seem to get once a week or so.  Walking outside to get some fresh air, I took a seat on a bench that was nestled nicely in one of the last few shady spots in the afternoon hour.  It was a beautiful day outside, and I had a strange feeling that the air conditioning in the building was the culprit of my headache, so I hoped this would alleviate some of the discomfort.

The bench was in a section of the city called Layfayette Court where two busy streets met in an even busier intersection, and a large monument marked a small clearing in which people could sit, read and enjoy the weather.  The train let out its typical “ding ding” in doppler fashion as it moved through the intersection, and despite the noise I could feel my head getting better already.

Normally during the lunch hour, the Church of Scientology sets up tables in the courtyard and solicits people to take “stress tests”, while at the same time offering sales of Dianetics and, I’m assuming, literature of the church.  I can’t really speak to the specifics of what they discuss as I’m usually not fond of solicitation in general, and to be honest, I’ve bought in to a lot of the bad press surrounding the organization.  The people running the stand, usually the same two gentlemen, have a robotic way about them and I think that may have added to my aversion.  That being said, from a people-watching perspective, they were a treasure trove.  The way the lunchtime traffic and the scientologists interacted was most certainly something to see.  I saw everything from genuine interest to those who were to shy to say, “No thank you, I’m not interested.”  The latter bunch was forced to endure a 15-minute test during which they would nervously look around hoping no one they knew saw them.

At this hour however, the courtyard was filled with a different crowd.  A line of people stood to get plates filled with hot stew of some sort (which smelled delicious, by the way!), fruit, bread and butter.  It was an organization called Food Not Bombs which collects leftovers from local grocery stores, restaurants and other businesses which would otherwise be thrown away.  Volunteers cook the food and serve it for free to those in need on the streets.  I noticed many of the people waiting in line simply because I saw them everyday on my lunchtime walks.  There was no question that the majority of them were homeless, and it was nice to know that groups like this existed so they were able to get a hot meal.

Sitting down on a bench next to me was a young couple that I often saw around the city, sipping Starbucks or enjoying ice cream during the summer heat.  They opened the lids to the meals they had just received and began eating the food in between conversation.  It struck me as strange that this couple would need to use a service like this since I had always seen them with rather pricey food items while walking.  They dressed nicely and their condition was not indicative of spending nights on the streets.  There were two options: either I was mistaken, or perhaps they truly did not need the service, but they opted for a meal anyway.  It was none of my business regardless, and I was glad to see that they were enjoying themselves. 

At the same time, one of the scientologists walked by me towards the courtyard.  I turned my attention towards him, thinking that perhaps he was going to take advantage of the situation and recruit some of the people while they stood in line at his usual spot.  That wasn’t the case.  He walked right up to the back of the line, stood patiently and with a smile made conversation with the volunteers as they served him his food.  He then sat down on the stairs of the monument nearby, took off a long sleeve shirt he had on in favor of a shorter one, and ate.  When he was done, he closed his eyes and you could tell he was relishing the afternoon sun.  Nothing spectacular, right?  Again, I didn’t say it was anything big, but here was a man who everyday worked with method and precision (to the point of eeriness) now enjoying a meal and relaxing.  For some reason, he seemed human to me, and it was refreshing.  He was no longer the “scientologist guy,” and while that won’t change my view of the religion, I won’t be so quick to judge the person in the future.

The couple next to me got up and left, and my smile faded.  They had finished their meal, but opted to throw half of it (I’m assuming the parts they didn’t like) on the grass and sidewalk where they had just been.  A empty can of some energy drink they had rolled around and settled near the curb.  It was not something that was rare in the city, but to see it done in such a cavalier manner was a little disheartening.  Apparently, I had judged those two wrong as well.

At this point, my head felt much better and white I was reluctant to go back inside, a conference call had my name on it.  I got up to take the short walk back to the office when I noticed another man that I saw around the city. 

His beard was long and dirty.  His hands were filthy to the point of almost being black.  Even though the sun was at its hottest point, he wore two or three heavy coats, and most likely additional layers under that.  That only added to the obvious fact that he had not taken a shower in what must have been months.  I often saw him talking to the hot dog vendors who offer him a free bag of chips during the lunch hour, and he would watch the noontime concerts that were held for free just a few blocks down from here.  I was surprised to see that was not standing in line for a plate of food.  Maybe he already ate before I came out, or he simply just wasn’t hungry, but that wasn’t what made me smile.

He was picking up the garbage the couple had left and was placing it in the trash can. 

Don’t judge a book by it’s cover, it’s true.

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