This I believe
I believe that all people are weasels. I began to realize this as TV shows became increasingly rude and crude. I watched in despair as comedy shows such as The Cosby Show or Tool Time went away. These shows were humorous, charming and intricate, where the parents are smarter than the kids. Replaced by reality shows were just game shows with back stabbing immature young adults. Tried the star search, only to be turned away by the nasty, embarrassing critique of the judges. Those who create TV shows are weasels, catering to the crudest forms of entertainment. So I turned away from TV.
I began to find most people just want your money. I would be approached by individuals in the parking lot, saying they were out of gas. Pleading to me for a few dollars to help. I usually did. They dress nice and talk fast. After awhile I realized this is a scam. Once I offered to call the police to help. They were quick to leave. Slow drivers frustrated me. I was fed up with people who just talk and say nothing. Most people are weasels. I began to turn away from people.
Recently I was at the grocery store and an elderly woman in a motorized chair was parked in front of the very freezer door I wanted to open. Where was her helper? But this time, instead of turning down the isle to come back later, I approached her and asked if she needed help. She could barely speak above a whisper. She point to the top shelf and asked for two supreme pizzas. I got them out and handed them to her. She motioned for me to come closer. With a twinkle in her eye, she said, “These are really good”. And then she looked straight at me and said “Thank you”.
I have been struck by that moment. She was alone, severely limited in her mobility, and still managing to do her shopping. I felt shame for the callous person I had become. I felt bad that my first instinct was to turn away. Yet I felt better for having helped someone in true need. Perhaps, I had become the weasel. So I have begun to change, to be a better, more caring person. This I believe.
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