Thanksgiving morning dawned quietly under gray, gloomy skies, and my neighborhood around the University of Minnesota campus reflected this mood, having turned into little more than a network of deserted streets and half-empty residences.

With nothing else to do and seeing a chance to perform a community service, I got into an old set of clothes, took a couple of plastic trash bags and walked down to the local freeway exit. There's a stoplight at that spot, a grassy triangle, and a chain-link fence. Litter has a way of accumulating against this fence -- empty cans, bottles, fast-food wrappers, etc.

For the next half-hour or so, I worked both sides of the fence, picking up trash and stuffing it into the plastic bags. Even on a cool morning, it proved to be a sweaty chore, especially when one's 63-year-old body makes bending over something more than just a casual action.

Then I heard a voice behind me. I turned and saw a late-model car stopped at the exit. Its driver, a young, clean-cut, junior-executive type, gave me a friendly smile and said: "Hey, buddy. You hungry?" And he held out a bill. I think it was a ten.

Caught by surprise, a bit flustered and embarrassed by what must have been my soiled and grungy appearance, I managed to thank the young man for stopping, saying it was kind of him to do so, but assuring him I wasn't hungry, though I certainly appreciated his offer to help.

The driver didn't seem convinced. Still smiling, still holding out that bill, he encouraged me to take it. "Go on," he said. "It's OK."

Once more I explained I wasn't hungry and didn't need any money. I'd simply come out to pick up the litter.

He continued to seem dubious but, after giving me a final look, nodded, pulled his hand back in the car and drove off.

Something about that final look has stayed with me. There was disappointment in it, I think, and perhaps even a little hurt, and I now regret my actions during that unexpected encounter.

I should have explained myself better because, in retrospect, I suspect the benevolent driver must have assumed my demurrals merely indicated a proud refusal to accept charity.

I also have come around to the view that I should have taken the money offered to me. I could have passed it on to a local food bank so it would still serve the original purpose for which it was intended. Perhaps more important, I could have given that young man the kind of satisfaction for which he was probably looking -- the satisfaction of helping an apparently down-and-out man enjoy a meal on Thanksgiving Day.

After all, most drivers would have passed by a shabbily dressed individual with a trash bag, but he stopped and offered help, and for that he deserved the expected sort of reward which I, in my embarrassment, failed to offer him.

So, wherever you are, young driver, thank you for your kindness, have a joyous holiday season, and never lose that impulse to stop and help others. You may not have provided me with the money to buy a Thanksgiving meal, but you gave me something equally, if not more, welcome and enriching.

Alvin Easter is a Minneapolis resident.

© 2022 StarTribune. All rights reserved.