Neil and I have been friends since 1970. We met at European History pre-1500 History while attending Boston College. Both of us were hippies. Our lives were dedicated to the greater good of humanity and over the years we have often discussed whether we do good to do good or do good in order to feel good.

We never resolved this issue.

This weekend I was beset by a number of daunting issues. My soul suffered in isolation. I felt alone and very alone. It was Labor Day Weekend. No one phoned me. Not friends, not family, not even the Chinese automated voice. I have no idea what they are trying to sell. I left my apartment for the Farmers Market at Fort Greene Park.

The sidewalks were empty. Only a few pedestrians. I wallowed in depression, then I spotted Flacco a Clinton Hill homeless person. His real name is Jose Garcia. He’s in his late-60s. A native of Puerto Rico. He speaks very little English and his health is very challenged by the decades of alcoholism. Still he always has a smile, but this day I noticed him slouch into the wall. He struggled to stand. I approached him and asked, “Are you okay?”

He explained in Spanish that he was dizzy and couldn’t really walk.

“Do you want to go to the hospital?”

Normally he refuses any help.

“Si, I want to go hospital.”

I called 911. They sent an EMS.

They took him to Brooklyn Hospital.

I could have walked past Flacco. Most people do every day. HIs brother died several years ago. He is basically alone. I know alone and felt good to helping him and my anxiety dissipated by the time I was ordering fish. I had done Flacco a favor without thinking. I was feeling good for having helped him. That was my reward. Feeling good was good.

Yesterday I saw Flacco on the sidewalk.

He was in better shape.

I have him a dollar and a cup of water.

He was happy.

He has no idea who I am.

And it don’t matter to me