These guys across from the train station were listening to MLK’s last speech, the part that mentions the Parable of the Good Samaritan. As I sat on a bench, King’s voice ringing in my ears, a man sat next to me. “Haven’t had a job in seven years,” he said. “My whole family is gone now; momma, daddy, sister and brother. I just keep going. I don’t know why, but I do.” I gave him one of my two dollars, went and sat under the rail bridge on Capitol Street and cried my eyes out. I don’t know why, but I did.