zesty_pinto (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
zesty_pinto) wrote2005-11-12 06:28 pm
zesty_pinto) wrote2005-11-12 06:28 pm
Homeless 1 Skeptic 0
On the return from home with a bag from "Teriyaki Boy" and a satchel full of sodas and instant noodles, I sat around in the Jersey City terminal wondering when the bus would come since it was so close to leaving time. I sit around, read more Wodehouse, and try to contemplate humor.
Along the way, a man comes up to me and asks if I can spare some change or a bite to eat. I hear him and pause, and I think he wonders if I heard him, but I can't really think of what to do. I always told myself that I should do this if I have time, but at the same time the bus was supposed to come soon. Looking at my watch, I ask him if there's any place in particular he'd like.
"There's a KFC nearby. McDonald's would be great. There's also a place downstairs."
I think of taking him to one of those places, but then I think about the bus again and the thirty minute wait between, so for the hell of it and since I already stepped deep into this, I accept and take him downstairs.
Along the way, he's asking my name and tells me a bit about his story all the while to my tentative nods and attempts to answer while my mind is still worried if I did the right thing. The man's homeless because his wife tossed him and the house was under her name. He won't get welfare until the first. At night, he sleeps by a church in Greenwich because Jersey City scares him. The people yesterday gave him hot dogs. He is telling this to me like I am a reporter, like no one else was willing to listen to him and that maybe I can tell his story to other people. He also seems to be one of the few people that figure out I'm Korean on first guess, but does not catch my name at the first shot because of my preoccupied thoughts.
Downstairs, he asks a very tentative clerk about the price for a meal, if there's meatloaf, and wonders what sides it comes with. He then asks me if he can get a drink. I tell him sure. I pay the man, and he looks at me with a look that shows the disgust and anger for having me bring him here, but money obligates him to obey. I prepare to leave and the man gives me a grateful shake of his hand and as I step up I cannot even remember his name.
I suppose this estranges me because I always grew up with a strict code to never care for the homeless. New York has always been a place that reflects "dog eat dog" where money supercedes mercy, and showing care to people like this is no different from admitting naivete. But at the same time, while I think about his situation, I also think of a friend of mine that dealt with the welfare system in New York and all of its merciless red tape. Likewise, I remember those days in Tulane when I was out of money, food, and starving around a campus of bountiful goodies at the right price. I've got a job anyway, and full time pays enough to make even the expensive 9 dollar meal nothing to worry about.
Of course, I'm also skeptical. I've handed quarters before to people who needed to "get on a bus" and then walk away the moment they see me gone. I made sure that the guy I purchased dinner for would not get any way around this, but at the same time I wonder how much of it is really significant or not. Am I really such a cynic, and is it a bad thing? I suppose I'm not man enough to confront this issue properly.
Along the way, a man comes up to me and asks if I can spare some change or a bite to eat. I hear him and pause, and I think he wonders if I heard him, but I can't really think of what to do. I always told myself that I should do this if I have time, but at the same time the bus was supposed to come soon. Looking at my watch, I ask him if there's any place in particular he'd like.
"There's a KFC nearby. McDonald's would be great. There's also a place downstairs."
I think of taking him to one of those places, but then I think about the bus again and the thirty minute wait between, so for the hell of it and since I already stepped deep into this, I accept and take him downstairs.
Along the way, he's asking my name and tells me a bit about his story all the while to my tentative nods and attempts to answer while my mind is still worried if I did the right thing. The man's homeless because his wife tossed him and the house was under her name. He won't get welfare until the first. At night, he sleeps by a church in Greenwich because Jersey City scares him. The people yesterday gave him hot dogs. He is telling this to me like I am a reporter, like no one else was willing to listen to him and that maybe I can tell his story to other people. He also seems to be one of the few people that figure out I'm Korean on first guess, but does not catch my name at the first shot because of my preoccupied thoughts.
Downstairs, he asks a very tentative clerk about the price for a meal, if there's meatloaf, and wonders what sides it comes with. He then asks me if he can get a drink. I tell him sure. I pay the man, and he looks at me with a look that shows the disgust and anger for having me bring him here, but money obligates him to obey. I prepare to leave and the man gives me a grateful shake of his hand and as I step up I cannot even remember his name.
I suppose this estranges me because I always grew up with a strict code to never care for the homeless. New York has always been a place that reflects "dog eat dog" where money supercedes mercy, and showing care to people like this is no different from admitting naivete. But at the same time, while I think about his situation, I also think of a friend of mine that dealt with the welfare system in New York and all of its merciless red tape. Likewise, I remember those days in Tulane when I was out of money, food, and starving around a campus of bountiful goodies at the right price. I've got a job anyway, and full time pays enough to make even the expensive 9 dollar meal nothing to worry about.
Of course, I'm also skeptical. I've handed quarters before to people who needed to "get on a bus" and then walk away the moment they see me gone. I made sure that the guy I purchased dinner for would not get any way around this, but at the same time I wonder how much of it is really significant or not. Am I really such a cynic, and is it a bad thing? I suppose I'm not man enough to confront this issue properly.
You are wonderful!
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You did the right thing with that homeless man. I generally don't give money either, but if there's a convenience store or something like that around, I will buy them food. You shouldn't feel weird about buying a fellow human being a meal. No one should have to starve and if people took care of one another, no one would. It starts with you, with the simple act of helping someone out. As they say, 'think globally, act locally.'
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