Support Your Local Homeless Person!

I understand it’s a privilege not to feel afraid – or, I should say, to hardly ever feel afraid – of homeless people. Even when they’re screaming wildly at no one in particular and just losing their minds right in front of me, I don’t feel scared. I don’t anticipate that they’re about to attack me or anything like that. At worst, I just feel helpless and maybe a little ashamed of my accustomed privilege and comfort. I’ve never, ever been without a home – certainly at least not in this life.

I understand too that it’s different for women, just like everything is different for women, because in our culture (like most of the rest of our fucked-up world) many men do prey on women, which is horrifying. I have a friend who, over the years, has been twice physically attacked by homeless men – once kicked, and once struck with a jagged stick – despite no provocation on her part. This friend has also endured numerous incidents of gratuitous verbal violence from destitute men, “crude and sexual comments on various parts of my body over the years.”

My friend does not therefore ignore or avoid all homeless people. However, she does say: “I feel I need to pick and choose ‘my’ homeless people very carefully, even if most of them are harmless.”

Fair enough! I say: safety first, by all means! I certainly won’t willingly engage with anyone I perceive as a potential threat, much less go out of my way to do so. That said, for me at least — speaking as a man, and a rather large man at that — this sort of episode is vanishingly rare. The vast majority of homeless people I see in this city appear filthy but not furious; decrepit but not demonic; demoralized but not depraved.

Last Sunday, I gave away a dollar apiece to two homeless people at different times in different locations. In the first instance, there was a man in front of Safeway with a sign. I had what I deemed to be an extra dollar in my wallet right then because someone had given me an extra dollar (knowingly, intentionally) earlier in the day. So I passed that gift forward to the man in front of Safeway, and I said, “Sorry I can’t do more,” and he said, “That’s okay, bless you.”

Later in the evening, walking home in the dark (I often walk at night) I saw a man in the street pushing a shopping cart full of his possessions. He was trudging on doggedly – it looked to my eyes like a heavy load, bulging with stuffed plastic large-sized garbage bags that sat atop other solid things, forming a bulky lopsided castle atop the cart. The guy was hunching forward, leaning in all the way as he pushed, going a decent clip actually (of course he did have the advantage of wheels; at least there was that).

I saw him just as I was getting home. He was actually pushing his cart on the street right in front of my house. I was about to cross the street to my home when I saw him.

So what could I do? (I mean, seriously – right in front of my house. Should I pretend I don’t see him??)

I called out “Excuse me! Sir?”

He whipped his head around, astonished, probably expecting trouble.

I said, “May I give you a dollar?”

He hesitated just a split second. “Yes! Sure. Thank you.” He was a wiry young dude with long dark hair and a heavy Latino accent.

“Sorry I can’t do more,” I said, handing him a buck.

“Thank you, man. Bless you.”

He walked on. For what it’s worth (and a friend of mine did raise the question), I’m sure he wasn’t watching me as I walked to my door and let myself in. I had no worries whatsoever about him noting where I lived and marking me as some kind of “soft touch” he could return to for more money.

So.

I gave away two dollars and got blessed twice. Need I say more?

Support your local homeless person! It’s easy, you don’t have to enter your email address (much less your credit card number), and they won’t proceed to harangue you with endless texts and emails begging for more donations. Moreover, they might bless you and it will feel really personal, as if that blessing is truly directed at you specifically, which it is.

THE CRIMINAL
(a story by Kahlil Gibran)

A young man of strong body, weakened by hunger, sat on the walker’s portion of the street stretching his hand toward all who passed, begging and repeating his hand toward all who passed, begging and repeating the sad song of his defeat in life, while suffering from hunger and from humiliation.

When night came, his lips and tongue were parched, while his hand was still as empty as his stomach.

He gathered himself and went out from the city, where he sat under a tree and wept bitterly. Then he lifted his puzzled eyes to heaven while hunger was eating his inside, and he said, “Oh Lord, I went to the rich man and asked for employment, but he turned me away because of my shabbiness; I knocked at the school door, but was forbidden solace because I was empty-handed; I sought any occupation that would give me bread, but all to no avail. In desperation I asked alms, but Thy worshippers saw me and said ‘He is strong and lazy, and he should not beg.’

“Oh Lord, it is Thy will that my mother gave birth unto me, and now the earth offers me back to You before the Ending.”

His expression then changed. He arose and his eyes now glittered in determination. He fashioned a thick and heavy stick from the branch of the tree, and pointed it toward the city, shouting, ‘I asked for bread with all the strength of my voice, and was refused. Nor I shall obtain it by the strength of my muscles! I asked for bread in the name of mercy and love, but humanity did not heed. I shall take it now in the name of evil! ‘

The passing years rendered the youth a robber, killer, and destroyer of souls; he crushed all who opposed him; he amassed fabulous wealth with which he won himself over to those in power. He was admired by colleagues, envied by other thieves, and feared by the multitudes.

His riches and false position prevailed upon the Emir to appoint him deputy in that city — the sad process pursued by unwise governors. Thefts were then legalized; oppression was supported by authority; crushing of the weak became commonplace; the throngs curried and praised.

Thus does the first touch of humanity’s selfishness make criminals of the humble, and make killers of the sons of peace; thus does the early greed of humanity grow and strike back at humanity a thousandfold!