Thursday, February 13, 2003

I keep hoping I’ll stop

I keep hoping I’ll stop thinking about him…

Every day I see someone - usually, several people - asking for a handout.  Some are witty, some are aggressive, and most are plain pathetic.  I can’t help but try to block them from my mind.  I struggle to make ends meet; I’ve overcome adversity and deprived myself; I shouldn’t have to feel guilty just because someone else has it worse than I do.  That’s what I tell myself.  Sometimes I have to shout it inside my head to feel comfortable about not emptying my wallet and giving away my bus pass.

On Monday I walked a gauntlet of the homeless.  They were holding out cups with a few pennies jingling in them, or strapping signs onto their pet pitbulls, or playing guitar with an open case in front of them, or whatever… I felt comfortable ignoring them.  I was short on cash, I had my own worries.  The weather was good and they looked okay.  But the last one… I noticed him retroactively, a block or so after I’d passed him.  I realized he was obviously suffering.  He had been kneeling silently, a sign propped against his chest: “Very Hungry.  Please Help.” His cheekbones were prominent and his eyes were sunken.  His gaze seemed frozen, or just worn out.  I had ignored him, as had everybody else around me.  He was the one I was supposed to help.  I was short on cash but he was broke.  I had my own problems but he was broken.  I’d had an opportunity, and I’d missed it.

One of my favorite legends is that the messiah walks among us even today, disguised as a beggar, waiting to be recognized.  I’m not convinced of the phenomenon of the messiah, but that tale has encouraged me in the past to take a little more time and care with those who rely on the charity of others for their sustenance.  Then sometimes I get caught up in the details of my life, lose perspective, and stop paying attention to other people.  I don’t know what I’ll do about that guy I was supposed to help out, but, for a while, anyway, I’ll be watching for him more carefully.  I’d like to think I’m a little less callous than I was on Monday, but really, it’s just guilt.  Hey - whatever works.