Everyone Has a Story

Everyone has a story. A few years ago I wrote a poem called "Everyone Has a Story". It was about walking past people and making a quick judgement,and really knowing nothing about them. In our busy world we seem to make lots of snap judgements without knowing the entire picture or even waiting for a glimpse into some one's life. I know lots of people that many of you would walk past, probably not even finding them worthy enough for a greeting, that are genuinely good people, who have stories to tell. Many times it appears to me that we only make time for people  we judge worthy based solely of their looks or material possessions they surround themselves with on a daily basis. There is a little bar in our small town that I really like to go to once in awhile and I'll tell you why. As soon as you walk into the door everyone is equal and everyone is your friend. I really like that feeling. I can stop in there in my sweat pants and old tee shirt and my trade mark flip flops and be treated right. Many, as they read this will already start making judgements about being in a bar. One reason I was in the bar last night was to check on a friend who is planning a benefit for a children's hospital. Yes folks, people that you may not give the time of day have spent months planning a benefit for a children's hospital. So, I ask you at this point? How many charity events have you pulled off in the last month while you walked past people you deemed unworthy?  I learned at an early age that not everyone is born with a silver spoon in their mouth, a Volvo in the driveway of a stately home. Some of us have had to work for what we have and some of us seem to never get a break. Don't judge until you hear our story, and if you don't have time for that story then please hold off on any judgement. My poem goes like this:                  Everyone Has a Story
               
                        Everyone has a story, or so they say,  
                        The man at the gas station, the woman at the grocery store, the elderly couple
                        holding hands at the park.
                       
                        Everyone has a story, or so they say. 

                        Everyone has regrets, not many, but some so deep, deep and dark like the
                        the river that flows through the small mountain town.   

                        Everyone has a story, or so they say.
                      
                        Everyone remembers that first kiss, that special summer, holding hands, and
                        lightening bug jars.

                        Everyone has a story, or so they say.

                        Everyone knows of broken hearts, scars that never heal, our song, old songs,
                        drive-in movies and classic old cars.

                        Everyone has a story or so they say of times that could have been, places
                        never visited, lost loves, broken fences, burnt bridges and lost lives.

                        Everyone has a story , or so they say.
                        The man at the gas station, the woman at the grocery store, the elderly couple
                        holding hands in the park.