Last Saturday was one of those days where I connect with D.C. The weather was as beautiful as November weather can be and the college football slate was rather bare. With that, Amanda and I got lunch, walked downtown across the Ellipse (grassy area in front of the White House) and over to the Corcoran Art Gallery.

There were two very different, but both very good exhibits on display. The first was a profile of John Singer Sargent’s seascapes, containing many of the sketches that led to his finished products. It was an easily accessible and enjoyable exhibit, that wore a little tiresome towards its conclusion. The other exhibit was Edward Burtynsky’s “Oil.” Burtynsky, a modern photographer, has traveled the globe and documented the production, consumption, and eventual disappearance of oil. His photographs are vibrant. My favorite was of the beautiful American landscape known as Breezewood, Pennsylvania, also known as Sleezewood or “America Town, USA.”

Post-art, we walked up 17th St. (with a brief stopover at the Gap for Amanda to fawn over clothes) and sat down in Dupont Circle. During our sit, we encountered adorable children, singing Jesus freaks, a man eating prosciutto and milk, and one particular, shall we say, dweller of the streets.

My typical reaction when I see a homeless man while I am stationary is, “Ah crap, he’s going to talk to me and guilt me into giving him money.” It’s a stereotypical and very elitist liberal white response. Naturally, when he said, “Hey you, Hey!” at me, I acted as though I was stricken with deafness. The man endured. I looked up and he said to me, not “Can I have some change?” but rather, “Put your arm around her.” I looked directly at him. He asked me if I went to Duke (I had my Duke hoodie on) and before I answered, he said that he came from near Duke. Wilson, NC, which I’ve driven past a few times in my travels. I smiled and told him I liked that area and that for his support of Duke I’d put my arm around Amanda and I did. Then he told me, “I got this here (pointing at blanket) as my mattress. Let me tell you, never take anything for granted in this life. Not even a moment with your girl.” And he walked away.

Writing this now, almost a week later, I’m still struck by the poignancy of the moment. I love unsolicited advice from strangers. I always take it as some sort of sign. I don’t believe in god. If he or she is there, that’s great. I’ll eat my crow at the pearly gates. Until then, though, I’ll live my life with logic and common sense. But there’s always something really touching to me about moments when someone chooses to give me simple, but vital and often overlooked life advice. Why did he single me out? Was it because my sweatshirt reminded him of better times in his own life? Was it because he truly wanted me to be happy? I’ll never know why this man approached me. I’ll likely never see him again. But his advice and his kindness really impacted me on that lovely autumn late afternoon.