Charity

2004 and it was a drizzly early Saturday night.  About May I think it was.

I was dressed up, I had a date (for once), and I was late.  I stopped at the turn light waiting for the light to change.  A homeless man was on the median with a sign asking for money.

He was in his late thirties or early forties, lean and tall with dirty blond hair peeking out under a filthy baseball cap.  A worn out yellow rain coat with torn grey pants and old sneakers covered his skeletal frame.  His face was a study of the rough life he had lived.  A light grey beard, with light blue eyes and a deep tan outlining deep crags on his cheeks and brow.  Thoroughly beaten down by life.

He came up to my truck expectantly and looked in hoping I would roll down my window.  I looked at him and wondered how he could have let himself get in this state.  Out of an arrogant whim I reached for my wallet and opened it.  I had just stopped at the ATM and had nothing but fresh new twenty dollar bills.  I shrugged and pulled one out.

“Your lucky night, bro.  Here you go” I exclaimed as I handed over the twenty.

He looked at me and then at the twenty in his hand and he began to sob.

“Thank you mister, God bless”  The light changed and I took off.

So later that night here I was sitting in a fancy restaurant with fine company and I can’t stop thinking about that old man.  Couldn’t stop thinking about what one little piece of paper meant to both of us.

To me that twenty dollars was nothing.  To him it was probably the first twenty dollar bill he had seen for weeks or months.  To him it was food, possibly liquor or drugs, but maybe a long distance call to someone who could help him, someone who cares. maybe a cheap comb and mirror to fix himself up.  Maybe just a temporary lifeline of hope.

I tend to follow the advice of homeless advocates and only donate to charities and homeless shelters.  I know that there exist “professional” panhandlers that go out and ask for money on regular street corners.  But there are also people out there that are in trouble.  For some reason they won’t go to shelters (pride, not knowing where to get help, fear).  I see them on street corners and busy streets and sometimes I can’t just drive past.