I'm not poor...

In an effort to do something productive and not waste time on my fake cafes, I'll tell you a story. The bonus is: it's a true story. At the end, well...there really is no ending, but I'll leave you to ponder the meaning of the story. Here we go:

A few weeks ago I was at my favorite spot at the beach, sitting alone on a bench on the cliff above. After just a few minutes a tall, gray haired, old man, with a garden hoe in his hand, asked if he could sit and empty the sand in his shoes. Of course I said "of course." As soon as he sat down, he lightly complained about the sand in his shoes, showed me the small trace of sand, shook his shoe, then proved to me that there's more sand in there than we thought there was. He put his shoe back on, sighed and said, "Now for the question of the day, are you ready?"

"Why not" I thought. So I said to him "I guess I am."

And he proceeded: "What is the difference between being broke, and being poor?"

I said the first thing that came to my mind: "Being broke is a physical fact. If you're broke, you're broke. Either you have money, or you don't. If you're broke, you can eventually get un-broke. Being poor is a choice, a state of mind, a feeling." He smiled at me and said, "You're right-and that's the best answer I've heard all day. You know, you can go into a restaurant and have a burger and enjoy it, a millionare can also go into that same restaurant, have the same burger, and not enjoy it." Then he proceeded to give me a short rendition of his life story, introduced himself, shook my hand, and left.