Jim, my counselor, had called me yesterday and left a message about a job. And I do need a job, but unfortunately, this was in an AIDS clinic. Since that was the last place I wanted to work, I told him no.

After Anderson's class today, he asked me to walk him to his office and I did. There was a cool wind that kept me alert and curiously anxious as to what Anderson wanted.

"Heard you turned down a job yesterday."

"Yeah. I didn't know this was such a small campus."

"Well, the clinic is connected to the college and I have a particular interest in it."

"That right?"

"Yes, it is, and I was just curious as to why you turned it down."

"Mr. Anderson, with all due respect, my life is drag to begin with. First, I don't know if I could bring anything to it and second, I'm looking for a job that might lift my spirits, you know make me feel goodabout life."

"And you don't think this job could lift your spirits? Well, how about you give the job a week and then see how you like it?"

"What's your interest in this clinic anyway?"

"My daughter died of AIDS last year. She lived fifteen years with it, but couldn't hold on anymore. We both did a lot of work for the clinic."

I paused. "Well, that's great."

"What?"

"How do I say no now?"

"You don't."

I thought about it--- for several seconds--- until I reached a decision.

*****

Next day. I showed up on time, 9AM. I met Sean the manager of the clinic. He didn't say much, just showed me the way to a closet like office with a small square table and four chairs. Two other people were there, one woman and one man, putting together and stapling brochures.

Finally I said, "My name's Mike."

"Josetta." The woman said and I hadn't even noticed she was Hispanic until her accent defined her.

The man said nothing. He was older, fifties. "What's your name?" I asked.

Then Josetta pointed to her ear, "I don't think he can hear you."

"Oh." I touched his arm and he looked up smiling. "Hello," I said again. He nodded and went back to stapling.

"Have you worked here a long time?"

"Oh no," Josetta said, "Only two weeks. But it's good I think. I want to do good for people and help people. That's the only reason to be I think. You know what I mean?"

"I do." And I did know what she meant; I just didn't know if I believed it.

A few hours passed and we finally finished the stapling and headed out to find Sean. Josetta approached him quickly. "Sean, we're done. What can we do next? You know, I'd like to do something worth while."

"We may need some food to go out. Any of you got a car?"

"I do." I said.

"Great."

******

An hour later Josetta, me, and Frank (the deaf man) found ourselves driving to Santa Monica to deliver groceries to several single homebound patients.

The first house we came to was Alfred Samson. He looked ravaged and I was fearful of him at first, but Josetta just burst in like a spray of lemon, calming Alfred with company. Frank took notice of the dog and immediately offered to take him for a walk.

"That's a great idea," Josetta said, "Why don't you go with him Mike and I'll put the groceries away and see if Alfred needs anything."

I obliged and found myself walking peacefully next to this gentleman, walking a dog I didn't know. And ironic as it sounds, I felt...well...good about my life.