Please, please do not be embarrassed by your dilemma, my friend.   

Believe me, I understand. 

Many, many moons ago when I first arrived in California, I, quite simply, ran out of money.

In order to survive, I had to go to work at the food bank in order to receive payment in the form of government food, once a week.

For the first time in my life I found myself working beside ex-cons, prostitutes, and parolees who wanted to do anything but be there.  They were very angry people.  I discovered, to my amazement, that some of these people carried weapons and would not hesitate to use them on anyone, visually impaired or not, if they so chose.

One day, I’ll never forget it, I was taking a break from loading a truck, when someone decided to take the candy bar, I was preparing to eat, out of my hand.  It was one of the prostitutes.  She reached up and before I could stop her, grabbed it and ran just out of my field of vision which was about five feet.  She started giggling as she tore off the paper and began to eat.  I honestly thought someone, for there were several witnesses, would help me protest but no one did.  They just stood around and laughed at me.  I was so hungry that day and that candy bar was all the food I would have to eat for the next six hours. 

I was angry and heart broken.  I suppose my anger began to show in my demeanor for the next thing I knew was that one of her “friends”, smelling of urine, put a knife to the back of my neck and said, “You ain’t gonna get an attitude, are you, blind boy?” 

Tears came to my eyes as I shook my head.  Then he said, “I’m sure she’ll pay you back, if you know what I mean, if you’d like.  Want me to talk to her for you?” 

I was absolutely disgusted and shyly declined his offer. 

As I returned to my work, I remember thinking, “How did this happen?  How did I end up in this place?  All this and for what, some food?” 

The tears did not go away, at least, not that day. 

The most horrible thing is that I could not tell any of my friends that I was having financial problems.  I did not want to hear any lectures from them and I know that my family was just waiting for me to fail.  They, believe me, never thought I could survive out here in California without their benevolent help.

You know, I remember feeling so much like a loser because, while my friends were going out on dates with girls, I was sitting home, eating government cheese, and hoping I would not feel the tiny feet of roaches cross my legs, again. 

I had to sell many things in order to keep the electricity and telephone on.  In those days, I only had one plate, two forks, two spoons, one cutting knife, two butter knives, one frying pan with no lid, one pot with lid, two cereal bowls, two cups, two glasses, one water pitcher, one canopener, four saucers, and one serving spoon. 

How can I remember this list of items so clearly after all these years? 

I can remember because I coveted them so.  Aside from my already outdated desktop computer, a small television set, some second hand clothes, various sundry items, and a few pieces of much used furniture, it was all I owned in the world. 

It seems so long ago, now; almost as if it all happened to someone else but it did not, it happened to me; or, more precisely, I happened to it.

I know that my words will not ease your pain but I do hope that they illustrate that you have absolutely nothing of which to be ashamed; just don’t give up and, more importantly, don’t give into anything or anyone who does not believe in you. 

Beware your friends for they may be blinded by love.  Covet your enemies for it is your reaction to your enemies through which your true self will be revealed.

Hear my words in your heart and you will discover that there is light in the darkness.

Most Sincerely,

Mark Marcus