Buying tickets for the train was a whole experience in itself. When we were getting change, the machine didn’t just give us regular dollars, we got gold dollar coins! I didn’t even know they made gold coins. Grandpa handed the coins to me, and I slid them into my pocket.
We got on the train. It was crowded at first but it cleared out quickly as we progressed from stop to stop. About halfway to Fairview Heights, where grandpa lived, a man got onto the train. He was tall with dark skin. He was wearing a coat and cap, both old and tattered. Being worn thin, it didn’t seem like they could keep him warm. His baggy jeans were speckled with mud, caked on the lower third. His boots caught my attention because they didn’t seem to have any laces. The whole sight of this guy through me off. I had never seen anyone dressed like this before. Then all of a sudden he was talking to my grandpa! “Excuse me sir?” What was he doing this was so socially unacceptable! People don’t just start talking to one another on trains! “Sir, I am hungry. I haven’t eaten in two days. Please can I have some money for food?” His voice sounded horse and weak, like he had sand in his throat.
I was astonished. I tried not to stare. I had never experienced an interaction like this before. What was an appropriate response? When I looked at my grandpa my eyes were screaming confusion and shock. It was like I was yelling, “Well what do you do now?” My grandpa appeared calm about the situation, almost like he had been here before.
  “Well what do you think we should do, Chris?”
I couldn’t breath. I was 7 years old! What was he crazy? This was not a decision for a person who had not fully developed their frontal cortex! I shrugged my shoulders and eloquently responded, “I don’t know.”
My grandpa looked down and thumbed through the contents of his wallet. “I only have enough for ice cream or helping out this gentleman.”
The original plan was to get ice-cream after riding the train. This was the ultimate test of character in my mind. How much harder does it get in life? Ice cream or helping a guy who is down on his luck? I had to make a choice.
I remember making eye contact with the man. I have never seen anyone look more desperate in my life.  At seven you don’t quite grasp the idea of compassion but that was what I was being faced with. “Give him the money,” I said. Jeez, that came out sounding like something an Italian mob boss would say. “Alright,” Grandpa said with a grin as he handed the man the money.
The man thanked my grandpa once more before leaving the train. We sat in silence for the remainder of the train ride. I think he wanted me to reflect on what just happened. Believe me, that’s all I could think about! I kept thinking about how the guy felt. It must be a odd feeling knowing that your next meal relies on the decision of a seven year old.
Later in life I learned that my grandpa was and still is a religious man. Maybe this is part of the reason he saw the situation as a learning experience and not just something he needed to deal with. As I grow up, I realize the importance of this moment in my life. If I had not experienced meeting a homeless person the way I did I might have a different outlook on life. I am thankful for the man that taught me what it means to be compassionate.