Havarti and Hobos

I call him Whipped Cream Dean. As far as I can tell, whipped cream is his greatest joy in life. It used to be heroine, but maybe a concoction of cream, sugar, and vanilla has taken its place. Caramel too. Give him a cup of caramel topped whipped cream and he'll be ecstatic.

He doesn't impose himself on anyone. He greets you warmly and asks you how you are doing. He offers to pay for everything even though he doesn't even have enough money for a cup of coffee. And you can tell by his eyes that he is immensely generous and compassionate.

Tonight he was trying to scrape together a few pennies for an overly priced sandwich. Chances are he hasn't eaten in a day or two and here I am...someone who complains when I skip one or two meals. I offered to by him a sandwich and his eyes lit up, but he told me he could get some cash together for it. I ignored him and bought it for him anyway. He shook my hand and wouldn't stop thanking me.

Sometimes I wonder if I do things like that to feel good about myself, or if I truly want that person to be happy. I hope it's the latter.