"Wanna know the moral of the story?"

On any given night in New York City, there are more than 50,000 people who are sleeping in homeless shelters. Over 21,000 of these people are children. These numbers do not count the thousands of people who are not a part of the shelter system. There are more homeless people living in New York City than the entire population of West Hollywood, California.

In April 2012, I was in a scene acting class and I was, at the time, rehearsing a scene from Arthur Miller's All My Sons. I was playing "Joe", the patriach of a family gripped in scandal, because it is only natural for a 22 year old guy to play a man in his middle sixties. Following that night's revelation of, "You don't walk like a sixty-year-old!" I went uptown to meet a friend at, The Three Monkeys, a pretty good bar nearby Columbus Circle, where you can get a Vodka + Tonic that isn't too watered down.

Afterward, I was going to hop the 1 train at the 59th street station to my over-occupied and under-sized apartment on the Upper West Side where I was living at the time. While I was waiting for the train, I was approached by a homeless guy. He wore a large olive-colored bathrobe which was covering layer upon layer of old, worn out, clothes that were a mixture of blues, greens, browns, and blacks. I stood there for a while ignoring him because, hey, that's what you do in New York if you see a homeless person. Like it or not, even the softest heart is eventually coated in the grime and frustration of New York.

Eventually, he turned to me and said:

"Would you like to hear a good, clean, joke for a dollar?"

I looked at him and shot back the standard reply of, "I don't carry cash." Which, in this case, was even true.

He paused for a moment and then said,

"I'll tell you anyway!"

Before I continue with the rest of this story, I want to once again remind everyone that everything that follows is completely true. 

The man continued, "It was winter-time in New York and all of the birds were flying south for the winter. Except for one bird, he decided to stay behind. All of his friends looked at him and said, 'If you don't come you gonna freeze to death.' The bird ignored his friends and they all headed south. It kept gettin' colder and colder and the bird thought to himself, 'My friends was right. I better get outta here and head to Florida!' So the bird started flying out of the city, but it was just too cold. His wings froze and he crashed into this farm. A horse came up to the bird and said, 'Mister Bird, you look too cold. You're gonna freeze to death. I can help, but it ain't gonna be pretty.' The Horse turned around and pooped all over the bird. It was stinky, but it was warm. So the bird stayed there long enough and his wing healed, but he was stuck!

 A cat came up to he bird and said, 'Mister Bird! You are stuck in the poop! Don't worry I can get cha out! The bird liked that idea and so the cat dug him on out. Before the bird could say thank you, the cat ate him up!"

The man looked at me for a moment and said, "Wanna know the moral of the story?"

At this point, I was so enthralled by both the story and the fact that he had considered this to be a "good, clean joke", that I needed to know how it all ended.

"The moral of the story is, 'Not everyone who poops on you is your enemy and not everyone who gets you outta poop is your friend."

After divulging to me this bit of wisdom, he saluted me and walked away.

I have never before, nor since, wished I had a dollar more in my life.

- Jeff