Sidewalk Party

I played music in the street one day and this guy came up wearing messy clothes with scraggly hair and beard. He listened and clapped along to one of my songs. We started talking. He asked what songs I know. He said do I know any Bob Dylan, so I played Like a Rolling Stone. He sang every single line to that song and when it came time for the harmonica, he cupped his hands up to his mouth and made this loud "Whah whah whah" sound. A group of other people, bums or homeless, beggars, all joined me and we played songs together. Guy at the pretzel cart gave me a free one. It tasted like turpentine. On the streets of NYC, outside of Port Authority, about 4 strangers and myself had a sidewalk party, jamming around and talking. Tony said that if every hour I put 2 dollars of what I earned away, so that I can't use it, by the end of the day I'll have a growing savings account for anything I want to spend it on. Good tip from a beggar.

The Lesson

I've been criticized and idealized, treasured and turned away, put to work and robbed, paid big and overcharged, de-railed and rampaged, threatened and befriended;

I've been kicked down, pushed out, walked over, passed by, stared at, shouted at, and mocked;

I've been helped, welcomed, spoken with, carried away, lifted out, fed, bathed, laughed with, listened to;

I've been left for lost, left behind, left waiting, left without a goodbye;

I've been picked up, cleaned off, handshook, and shoulder-patted;

Along this road I roam,
I've slept in parks and
slept in homes;
I've gone hungry and
I've dined for free;
been caught in rain and
handed an umbrella.

Why, you might say I'm a lucky fella.

My legs are weary, but
warm hearts are plenty.