
“Excuse me, sir. Buy the newspaper that creates jobs for people.”
He held in his hands a copy of the local Article 25 newspaper. Between his sandaled feet was a duffel bag containing more copies of the paper. To the other side of his right foot was a puddle of something I can only hope was a spilled drink.
He was a large, dark-skinned man sitting on a bench under a small tree. His scruffy, gray-haired face was adorned with red-tinted sunglasses and a matching baseball cap. I could discern only two teeth on his upper gum, but through that mouth came one of the fullest and most sincere smiles I have ever witnessed.