Walking home the other day, I saw a man coming up the street holding a ten pound dumbbell in his hand. “Oh,” I though to myself, “that crazy homeless person is carrying a dumbbell.” But as he got closer I realized that in his other hand, thrown over his shoulder, were three dry cleaned shirts in plastic bags.
Now I was confused, most homeless people I know don’t get their dress shirts professionally laundered. So what was going on here? Was this guy coming back from the dry cleaners with a (half of a) set of free weights, or was he heading to the gym with his dry cleaning. And if so, what kind of gym has a lending policy with its weights. (A library/gym?) “Uh, just sign here sir and please be sure to return the weights when you are properly bulked up.”
I wanted to take a picture or at least gawk at him for a bit longer, but I remember the sage advice my father gave me on the eve of my bar mitzvah, “Son, soon you will be a man. And I want you to know this; God don’t make no trash. Now go sing the hell out of your Haftarah portion.”
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