Respect

When I was 16 my Father gave me a lesson about respecting my fellow man.
At this time Dad was the head administrator of an clinic for alcohol and drug abuse. It seemed he was on call 24 hours a day ,7 days a week. While we did not have a lot in common and our relationship was strained at times, I admired my Dad for what he did for a living. He had overcome his alcoholism and was now trying to use his experience to help others. While I admired what he did with his life ,it did however interfere with our lives.
On this particular day Dad and I were going to see a movie. Before we could go he stopped by his office to get a few things. While there Dad found out that one of his clients was now refusing to go into rehab for treatment. Dad muttered something that sounded obscene under his breath and told me we might be late for the movie. We went back to the car and drove over to his clients apartment. When we got there, instead of having me wait in the car , he had me go in with him.
It was a messy dank place, with the smell of urine in the air. Trash lay everywhere. His client was perhaps the most pathetic person I'd ever seen in my life. He sat on a filthy couch with just a pair of shorts on. He hadn't shaved in a while, or likely bathed in even longer. His body had numerous sores all over, and his feet were red and swollen to a grotesque size. In his hand was a bottle of beer. I had never seen my Dad with a client before. I had always suspected that he just yelled at them until they stopped drinking.(It was his tactic of choice for getting me to do pretty much anything.) Instead he grabbed a kitchen chair, moved it next to the couch, and began talking to this man.
We were there half an hour. I don't remember any of the actual words Dad used. What I remember is how Dad treated this man. I stood by the doorway and watched my Dad treat with utter dignity this man with no dignity at all. He never yelled or raised his voice. In the end , the man agreed to go into rehab.(I would later learn that this man died a few short weeks later)
By time we left it was to late to see the movie. I was upset and called his client a worthless drunk. Dad pulled the car over and chewed me out. " There but for the grace of God goes either you or I! The only way to help people is to treat them like the person you want them to be. Everyone deserves to be treated with dignity and respect , because you never know when it's you who will need help !" I had never heard my Dad speak with such passion.
Before I could ponder long my Dad's words of wisdom we came to a 4 way stop. Crossing the street in front of use was a short squat woman . She was at least 100 pounds overweight wearing a pair of black shorts and a gray tank top(that I suspect at one time was white) that showed off too many rolls in her belly. Her hair was dyed a very unnatural color of red. From her lips dangled a cigarette. She looked our way as she crossed the street and gave my Dad a smile.
Dad stared straight at her and said very loudly so she could hear "Well there goes God's gift for mankind!" A very indignant look crossed her face as our car pulled away from her.
Thus ended my lesson in treating others with respect and dignity.