The Kindness of Strangers: Penniless Across America

Sometimes those who give the most are the ones with the least to spare.

I’ve never understood what people mean when they say they have to find themselves. We know who we are. The hard part is being that person. It’s always so much easier to be someone else.

I walk on, wondering how the people who have the least to give are often the ones who give the most.

I’m forced to rethink my feelings toward cops. I guess they’re not all bad. After all, I did travel all the way to North Carolina before getting hassled by one.

We stop for gas in Asheville, North Carolina. The cashier in the minimart sits in a bulletproof booth, something I haven’t seen since leaving San Francisco.

At the start of this journey I wondered if America was too suspicious to let a stranger into its heart. But on this day I wonder if it’s the stranger who’s too suspicious to allow America into his heart.

I’m reminded that no matter how hard we try, nothing we do is in a vacuum.

I guess I make the most of what comes and the least of what goes.

There was a time in this country when you were a jerk if you passed somebody in need. Now you’re a fool for helping. Gangs, drugs, murderers, rapists, thieves, carjackers. Why risk it? I Don’t Want to Get Involved has become a national motto.