Inside the Mind of Isadora

Poverty and Hunger



One day, the parish priest came to visit the 4th grade class.

He asked the pupils, “How can you tell when night has ended and day has begun”.

”Could it be,” asked one of one enthusiastic student, “when you can see an animal in the distance and tell whether it’s a sheep or a dog?”

“No,” answered the priest.

Another student asked, “Is it when you look at a tree in the distance and can tell whether it’s a fig tree or an apple tree?”

“No,” answered the priest.”

“Then when is it?”

The pupils were anxious to know.

“It is when you can look upon the face of any man or woman and see that they are your sister or brother. Because if you cannot see this, it is still night.”


Everyday, we encounter people from all walks of life. Some who feel like kindred spirits and some who feel like strangers. It’s easy to accept those we view as being ‘one of us’.

However, we feel a separation and fear of those whose lifestyle are at odds with our own. We can identify with our family, our gender, our country of origin, our religion and assume that every person who fits into those categories will agree with our point of view. It isn’t necessarily so.


I stumbled across this homeless man while I was on vacation. Many tourists passed without a glance his way. He was selling shells. He had an unsanitary odor, was drinking alcohol at 11:00 a.m. and smoking something that had a distinct fragrance.

I stopped.

I stopped because, as a child, I was taught by my Dad that we should help those who have less than us. Often, he would take us to an area in New York called the Bowery. There were homeless people there. He’d park the car and take us kids for a walk among them. They were scary for a child. He would ask them if they’d eaten. He would purchase some hot dogs or sandwiches. He would give us the food to give to them. Then, he’d give them money. Always saying, “ Don’t give up hope. Tomorrow will be a better day.” They’d say, “Izzy, thank you for not forgetting us. You’re a good man.” I felt a sense of pride for my Dad.

On the drive home my Dad would say, “These people don’t want to live this way. Life can bring hardship on you without any notice. You should always help those less fortunate than you. God is watching you and will know if you’re a good and caring person to those in need.”

That day while on vacation:
I stopped because this homeless man was in need.
I stopped because I knew I could give him hope if I helped him.
I stopped because in spite the way he looked, he was a human being.

Of course, he was shocked that I had stopped and was talking to him. Afterwards, he wanted me to take one of his shells with me. I paid him for it but told him he could sell mine to another tourist. Smiling I said, “I’m happy I was just able to talk to you today.”

His eyes filled with tears. He said, “ Pretty lady, I know you’re an angel. No one sees me sitting here. You did. When you go back to heaven, I hope you’ll see my beautiful wife and tell her I miss her.”


There’s tremendous satisfaction in making others happy, despite our own situations. Shared grief is half the sorrow, but happiness when shared is doubled. If you want to feel rich just count your blessings and all the things you have that money can’t buy.
Today is a gift, that’s why it’s called the present.
2015©Isadora De La Vega

This is being posted for The BeZine 100TPC 2015
If you’d like to share your views on hungry and poverty
join in with poems, stories or photographs.

Author: Inside the Mind of Isadora

Intriguing, sensitive, mysterious, loving, artistic and crackling with excitement for life is a pretty good description of who I am. I just retired from the world of art where I sold my Artfully Designed Handmade Jewelry for 28 years; although, art will always be a part of who I am no matter what venue I choose to express it in.

19 thoughts on “Poverty and Hunger

  1. impressive and emotional… thanx, Ma’am! ❤

    Liked by 1 person

  2. You have a great dad, and you did stopped and chatted with that homeless man. Bless your soul my friend!!!

    Liked by 1 person

    • Dear Seyi Sandra,
      My thoughts were that, perhaps, I could have touched him enough with my words to have him consider a change in his life.
      If not, I may have givern him pause to feel that his burden wasn’t as heavy as he thought.
      I thank you for your kind words. I am receiving many blessings from this post; a reward in and of itself.
      Isadora 😎


  3. Loved reading this heart wrenching story, Issy. Your father really taught you compassion, bless him. xx

    Liked by 1 person

    • Yes, he was a man who taught us as kids many, many things. He worked 3 jobs. He came from poor, very poor,
      beginnings and was always fearful of being that way again. I appreciate all I learned and try to always remember it.
      Thank you for reading my story, Sylvia, and leaving your very nice comment.
      Isadora 😎

      Liked by 1 person

  4. Pingback: Poverty and Hunger | momentarylapseofsanity

  5. What a lovely story. Your actions that day, and the story of your wonderful father, are so heartwarming, and very thought-provoking. How often people like the man you describe are scorned by passers by. You’re right to say that hope is something they cry out for – something to give them a reason to live. Thank you for sharing this.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Lovely, lovely piece, Izzy, from a lovely woman, due in part to her father. 🙂


    Liked by 1 person

    • What a very nice thing to say, Janet. Thank you.
      I work at doing all I can to be compassionate to others. I think it’s a quality that many forget
      to teach their children and to have themselves. Kindness towards others can bring a tremendous amount of satisfaction.
      Izzy 😎


  7. Issy you gave hope to this lonely man, you’re wonderful.

    Liked by 1 person

    • At the time, I didn’t really think about it. I stopped to leave a donation for him. I knew I couldn’t bring the shell back.
      Traveling doesn’t always give us the option to purchase things we can’t bring home. I think the story behind the photo,
      I was allowed to take, was of greater value. It’s a memory I won’t forget.
      Thanks Gilly for your very kind compliment.
      Issy 😎

      Liked by 1 person

  8. How fortunate to have a father such as yours, Isadora. He taught you an invaluable human lesson…compassion…beautiful. xoxo

    Liked by 1 person

    • I appreciate everything my father taught me. He was a good man in his own way. He was of harsh temperament and demonstrative
      with it but the lessons are still remembered. I’ve always kept his teachings in mind whenever doing something of kindness.
      I’m pleased you enjoyed my story and found the kindness of both my father and his teachings to me to be invaluable.
      Izzy 😎


  9. Tears. Right on target. Right to the heart of the issues. We used to pass by the Bowery. It intimated Mom; but, it still made its impression on me. Now you don’t have to go to the Bowery to see poverty and hunger. It’s at all our backdoors … our front doors … our parks and under bridges wherever you go. Well done, Isadora: you and your father speaking together. xo

    Liked by 1 person

    • Aww … thank you, Jamie. It’s very true, there’s no need to go to specific places to see poverty or hunger. How sad ..!!!
      My father came from very, very poor and humble beginnings. I believe he never forgot and never wanted to return to it.
      He worked 3 jobs all of his life. He was a hard working man. I wish I could have understood why he did work so hard
      before he was gone. I’m grateful I still have his lessons to guide me today. Thank you for enjoying my story of a fathers
      Isadora 😎


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