Its only a dollar or two

Today is Christmas Eve day, it bears very little religious meaning to me as I am not Christian but the spirit it embodies and brings out in most people is both addicting and wonderful. I am working on a present for my grandmother, one that is taking quite a bit of time, more than I expected so I needed to run to the corner drugstore for a few more supplies. It is a wonderful CA day here in San Francisco, temperature around 60 degrees with only the slightest hint of clouds. People are about and for the most part fairly cheerful, as they tend to be in this city.

Walking towards Longs drugs I pass a man in reasonably nice clothes selling newspapers from the homeless. I did not buy a paper when he offered but I wished him a Merry Christmas. He returns verbally that that is almost better than buying a paper and wishes me the same in return and a wonderful weekend. I continue to the drugstore, gather the needed supplies and as I move to the checkout pass the coolers with all types of liquid refreshments. Now those of you who know me here in CA know that for several years I have stolen an idea from a great friend of keeping a number of water bottles in my car. When I encounter a person on the exit ramp of the highway or at an intersection begging for money, food or work, I can at least offer a bottle of water. Especially in the summer, I feel that this is a way of helping that can’t be turned into other modes of debauchery. So as I am at the drugstore I grab a ½ liter of water for a very reasonable price of 99 cents. I leave the store with a bit of step in my stride and return along the same path I came down just a few minutes ago.

Up in front of me sitting cross legged hugging a beautiful black Labrador is a young lady, looking younger than myself, college age actually. She is wearing slightly dirty but still in shape jeans and a nice black t-shirt. She balances a sign that leans on her arms that simply says Very Hungry…Please. She keeps her eyes lowered to the ground, either from shear exhaustion or embarrassment. She is quite attractive and in different circumstances where we might meet at a bar or coffee shop I would be trying quite diligently to possibly make her acquaintance and possibly get a phone number. And yet just like that without a pause in the stride I pass her. I know she has a story, she must have a story, but we have grown so accustomed to this, and so cynical to the nature of ‘sob stories’ that we don’t even give them the chance to listen. Is she down on her luck or a victim of some excessive substances, or maybe simply lost in life. Granted her young age, nice appearance and clothing probably had more to do with these questions than the man sleeping in a corner in a dirty sleeping bag with a dirty beard several inches long and an appearance of not having showered since the 1990s.

I continue the walk with these questions pounding in my head like the headache after an all night bender, and my bag filled with supplies and a candy bar feels heavier than when I left the store. I pass the spot where the older gentleman selling newspapers was located, only to find it vacated. I am a little disappointed at this inability to help especially now with a water I could have and maybe should have given to another. About a half a block further I see him sitting on a stoop in the shade. He sees and recognizes me. He greets me from a few feet away with a wave, smile and another Merry Christmas. I reach into the bag to bring out my offering of water (ignore the religious implications of that sentence purely accidental) and just before I grasp the bottle I see in his hang a paper bag with a 40 of malt beer. I am not deterred and continue with the offering which he takes gladly and another wish of a good weekend, I move on. What is his story? Is he struggling with an addiction while still battling that feeling of wanting to work for a living, hence his selling of newspapers? Is he not one of the crazy homeless, but rather another down on their luck and a victim of circumstances? I will never know.

These thoughts go through my head as I continue down the street with more anguish than joy at this moment. According to the mayor’s office and the last census there are at least 5,600 homeless in this city. There are services for them, but many do not qualify or don’t know about them. On this day of holiday in one religion we examine others as well. Islam does not simply reward but demands of its followers to provide food, money and shelter for the homeless especially during Ramadan but also at other times, even going so far as to list specific percents of your salary to donate. In old Jewish law, farmers were required to leave the corners of all their fields un-harvested for all who were hungry to harvest for themselves and their families. How do we translate this to today’s needs without aiding and abetting the causes that might have led them here to begin with. It is simply too easy to give money to a group like Salvation Army wash your hands and say you are done. As I have talked about before money without any skin in the game is a only half a gift. Nor am I saying we should all run out and buy hundreds of dollars of McDonalds gift certificates and spend our days walking down the street handing them out. But there has to be a way. The challenge of course is there are scammers, people willing to degrade the name of beggars with fake stories of woe and troubles. I was once approached in the suburbs by a young lady with an infant claiming to have been beaten by her husband, thrown out of the house with no where to go, could I help her. I stopped and started to offer her phone numbers for shelters for people in those circumstances, she declined. I offered her assistance to a police station she declined, she simply asked for money for food and shelter. I offered to walk the 30 feet back to the fast food establishment I just left and buy her a meal. She declined. I had no choice but to leave for I believe in my heart that offering cash is not the solution. Was she faking?

We don’t think twice of ordering an extra beer in a restaurant or bar at the low and unreasonable price of 8 or 9 dollars. Of course there is a dollar or two tip every time for the bar staff. Yet we hold back even a single dollar to one on the street requesting help. We have become so immune to their please that we don’t even think twice. Clearly I do not have all the answers, but I put forward to you as many of you are with friends and family celebrating both a religious day and soon the beginning of a new year. Ask yourself how can I help someone else who might not have had the luck I have had. Everyone has a story, has a history, if we took the time to hear it would it move us to help? Think of that the next time you pass a young man or woman on the street who simply asks for a moment of your time and a little consideration.

I know that young lady will be in my mind for quite some time. If it is me sister I would move mountains, what if she simply has no brother to be there for her. That thought will weigh on me.

Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukah or Happy Kwanza may whatever God you believe in grant you, your family and friends health, peace and happiness.