(Originally August 4, 2005)
...the expectation of the poor shall [not] perish for ever. Psa 9:18
You'd think I'd be referring to myself, but I'm not. There are about as many homeless people in this city as there are people in some small towns across America. The few things I dislike about NYC are; walking in the trail of a smoker, watching someone suddenly spit a loogie, and ignoring the begging of a bum.
To clarify, I dislike it when I ignore the begging of a bum. Because I do, constantly. Way back when I was a teenager, I would come to NYC just to walk around and discover stuff. I'd walk to Madison Avenue to see where they published Marvel Comics. I'd go to Central Park to find the castle. I'd go to the Museum of Natural History to see what the planetarium looked like from the outside (back when it was just a square building with a domed roof). Once a bummy looking young guy asked me for money while I was circumnavigating. He had sad droopy eyes, as I recall. I asked him how much he needed and he said "Anything". I gave him $20.00. I just happened to have had that much. I don't know why, but I did. He was mega-thankful. I felt super-good about my generosity. I've been questioning the action ever snce. I know, for a fact, that many beggars will use the money for a substance of their choice. You hope it'll be food, but most likely it will be a drug.
In Starbucks, a homeless fellow introduced himself to me back in Oct. He has been coming into the store ever since. At times he would have a seat and sleep for a few hours. Mostly when he comes in, he uses the bathroom for about 30 minutes to wash up and other activities. He's in his 60's. Around Christmas time, he got involved with a group of drug dealers who used to come into the store and have meetings. They'd send maybe one young representative to buy a cup of coffee and maybe a biscotti, then they'd loiter at a table for hours. They would take turns going into the bathroom for about 20-30 mins each. It was getting annoying. One of us overheard them talking about distributing drugs so my manager took the occasion to report that to the police, who showed up promptly to search all their belongins and subsequently found their drug-making supplies. On that day, two of them were carted off. The homeless felllow was not among them, although he did stay gone for a few months. The drug ring stopped using our store as result, thankfully. But the homeless man of my narrative remains.
This fellow is rarely in a lucid state of mind. He has moments when he can clearly tell a story, but mostly he's scraggly, sweatty, and insincere. He's just doing what it takes to get what he needs and does it by trying to win as many people over as possible. I once saw him in the street, a few blocks away, approaching cars as they are stopped at the light. He begs for coins. He was complimenting the owner of a silver convertible.
I cannot imagine what it's like to be insanely wealthy in this town, and have so many people begging for money all around you. Will I revert to that kid I once was, and give away twenty dollar bills? Will I even bother to find a more effective way to help these homeless thousands? Or will I remain as selfish as I am now, even resentful of the people who barge into my personal bubble and dare to ask me for anything, whether it be money or the time of day?
"ONE PENNY FOR THE HOMELESS! HELP THE HOMELESS!" cry the people at the table on the streetcorner behind the big plastic blue jug. What good will one penny do? What are these people talking about? Who are they really?
I think all this poverty I'm experiencing now, along with all the generosity of my friends who are trying to help me through this shameful patch in my life, will help me do the right thing when the time comes. Too bad I can't do that now, though.
Hmmm. Maybe I will anyway. I mean, what's a penny?
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