I was at the airport, and there was a guy who I, as an old, out of touch man, would call a trendy young dude. He had on the REALLY skinny jeans, a knit cap, and what looked like bowling shoes. He was also writing in a journal.
I was tempted at first to be impressed, assuming that he was artistically musing on life and love and our eternal place in the cosmos. Then I had to chastise myself for prejudging this young man. In reality, it’s more likely he was over there journaling about how he can’t feel his legs.
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