The way I see life.

He's a violinist. And he plays outside grocery stores. In Carbonia. In Sardinia. He keeps the violin case open. On the ground. Expecting passersby to toss in coins. Maybe even folding currency occasionally. Today I watched. For 15 minutes. Before two ladies made contributions. So did I. I told the guy I don't speak Italian. And that I was an American. And I wondered if he spoke English. I guess not. But he quickly broke into a sprightly tune. Which I assumed was American. Didn't recognize it. But it sounded American. He had been playing a classical piece. Over and over. One that I didn't know. But it sounded classical. Wish my true love had been with me. I would have asked her to quiz him. About whether these were hard times. And if he made an adequate living this way. And did he ever play professionally? On a concert tour. Or with an orchestra. I would have liked to know a little bit about him. I would have. If he spoke English. Meanwhile, maybe 30 or 40 people passed him by. Without much notice. Until the two ladies broke the ice, so to speak. I have a hunch that Sardinian women are more kind-hearted than Sardinian men. Certainly, my true love is kind-hearted. She would have admonished me if I hadn't tossed in some coins. And I may have admonished her if she had refused to talk to the man. And asked him questions. Caring enough to know about him is more important than giving money. That's the way I see life. --Jim Broede