If you didn't look at them, they weren't there, right? On seeing those in rags on the corner, I only wanted the light to turn green fast enough so that I wouldn't have to keep pretending not to see them. Then, one day, as I was holding the hand of my best friend Jane who was young but dying of breast cancer, she told me that she made every moment count by slowing down and by seeing everything . I held her hand for five years and then she passed away. She did teach me something. It took a while for her words to really sink in. I can be a slow learner. I started by seeing everything, and focused on their presence. One day I saw a Vietnam veteran . I asked him what would make his day. "A hot cup of coffee," he told me. I bought him a cup of coffee, a stack of pancakes, some eggs, and so on. After our meal together, I asked him if there was anything else that would make his life a bit easier. "A new pair of socks, "he said. Socks, really? I actually happened to be wearing a nice pair of wool hiking socks at that very moment. I told him that I wanted to give him the pair I was wearing if he would accept it. Finally he agreed. We sat down on a bench, and he started to first take off his boots, and then remove the black socks that had once been white off his feet. I think a layer or two of skin might have come off with them. Taking his new pair of socks, he held the socks up to his cheeks and said they were warm and smelled as good as me, pools of tears in his eyes. Such a simple luxury   I used to take for granted. Now I always have an extra pair with me in my car. They are always my best pair, just waiting to be given away. Why does the author always have an extra pair of socks in his car?
To decorate his car. To sell it to others. To keep it for a change. To donate it to a needy person.