Pocket [change].

The other day I went searching for something delicious. This is really a never-ending activity for me. Maybe its all I ever do and other things are just rabbit trails along the way. Friendships, work, fun activities, coffee shops and bars - all just distractions on my way to that delicious morsel of mystery. I even dressed up this day. A collared shirt, a sweater, nice jeans, and dress shoes if you can call that "dressed up". And I was going to the farmer's market and I LOVE the farmer's market.

Bear with me. Maybe life is a collection of moments in more than measurable ways like how a day is a collection of hours and an hour is a collection of minutes and a minute is a collection of seconds. What do you remember? Memories are collections of moments that pushed through to permanency like a million salmon returning to spawn and the few that actually make it. It's easy to forget about the vast majority of them, but you certainly remember the ones you catch... or that one that got away.

Sometimes there are moments that change everything. Then there are moments that are only remembered because of a series of... well, maybe we don't know why we remember them. Or even why we noticed whatever it was to begin with. For whatever reason, we remember certain otherwise-insignificant moments.

The holiday season always brings about a certain spirit of giving. Though this spirit is often confused with the evil spirit of pointless consumerism, it is still there, and people ringing bells next to red buckets are its signature.

I was at the farmers market and the unmistakable clanging of a Salvation Army bell ringer could be heard over the chattering crowd and buses passing by. Then I judged a man. He looked dirty, his clothes didn't fit quite right, match, or look very good. I imagined he had a certain aroma about him; probably something like weed and body odor and I thought he must be homeless. I don't know what his situation was or anything about him for that matter. Except, there was one thing. He was a much more generous person than me.

Whenever I pass the ringing bells and red buckets, I always feign a smile and keep walking. Give a stranger my parking money? HA! This man was different. Some of this memory died halfway upstream, but I think I remember him putting down his bag and walking out of his way to drop a few coins in the bucket. As for me? I didn't have any change to give that day, but I did eat an $8 hot dog. Life can be ridiculous, unfair, judging, absurd, and sometimes dirty. But, it can also be generous or delicious. For me the two seem to be mutually exclusive. At least on that day. My conscience will deal with these things and change will come, probably in small amounts. Pocket change.

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'Zilla-style hot dog from 4505 Meats. Bacon is already in the hot dog, then they add their $$$ Sauce, kimchi, and the most incredible chicharrones known to mankind up to this point. I also don't remember if I ate this hot dog the same day that I saw the man give some pocket change, but I'm choosing to remember it that way.