You know you should see, but you look away

He was old, white-bearded, stoop-shouldered and dressed in a tattered green overcoat. But somehow he seemed cleaner than most of the other forgotten souls who linger on Portland's corners, as if maybe there were someone somewhere looking out for him, someone who took him home and washed his clothes and gave him a shower whenever he could bear to be brought indoors.

We were hurrying past on the way back to the car from Powell's. I was carrying a banker's box containing the two books I'd just bought and the two books I hadn't been able to sell. It was cold, and it looked as if the rain would start again any time.

He straightened up as we approached. His eyes--red-rimmed but with an almost wizardly kindness and wisdom in them--met mine.

"Could you spare a quarter?" he asked, in a British-accented voice that had no rancor in it, no whining, only a quiet and somehow hopeless dignity.

"Sorry," I mumbled, as I always do, and looked at my shoes as we hustled the children past him and down the street.

Three minutes later, as we were zipping toward home in our safe, warm (with heated seats, even!) car, I thought of what I wished I would have done. Given him a dollar--not that I had any cash--or, better yet, taken him down to the diner on the corner and bought him a cup of coffee and a grilled cheese sandwich. Asked him, if he wanted to tell me, how a man with such a cultured and gentle voice, with Gandalf eyes, had come to be standing in the rain and asking passersby for a bit of charity. Learned something from this odd old man who, for whatever reason, stood so distinctly apart from the masses of homeless people who wander through Portland's downtown streets. (But not sitting or lying down--no, that is evil and must be punished.)

You know you should see, but you look away. But even when it's out of sight, it's never out of mind.

Comments

[Ute]

Molly, back in Phoenix there was an old man just like that standing at the Freeway exit almost every day. No sign that says "Thank you" or "Every little bit helps"... none of that. He just stood there and waited.
On one particularly hot day (it was probably 115F) out there, I rolled down my window and gave the man 20 bucks. He almost collapsed when he looked at the bill. Then I handed him a bottle of water that I always carried with me in Phoenix and told him to get out of the heat. :) Yes, I'm bragging... but it felt sooo good! And when I drove by 5 minutes later I saw him walking down the street to McDonald's.
I don't usually give money... but something about this man was different. :)

[azureavian]

my mother has always told me never to give anything to the people who beg. whether it was because of her saying this or just because i'm the eternal optimist, i usually give them what i have. there are a couple that i sometimes go out of my way to find. not that i'm bragging or anything, but i like to feel that i'm doing something good. "there but for the grace of god go i" and that sort of thing.
i feel kinda guilty tho because lately i only carry credit and atm, rarely cash anymore.

[Ute]

Uhm... it's not the bragging that felt good, but giving the guy the money. LOL I see how that could be misunderstood.

[Blue Like the Sky]

It is so hard to know how to help, really help. I have a friend who frequently encounters folks like the gentlemen you describe. He keeps vouchers for a simple meal at a local place (a burger, fries, and a drink) and gives those rather than cash.

Last week, Small Child and I were walking along the river in Little Rock on the last leg of our road trip. In our path were two men and, obviously, eveything they owned, including a couple of 40s. This was at 9 a.m. I didn't feel threatened, and I want her to learn to exist in urban settings, so we continued toward them.

The scruffiest on called out to us. He has something in his hand. I looked over. He had made what he called "an eagle chick" out of pipecleaners. It was precious, although it looked more like an easter chick to me.

"I just glued its eyes on, so be careful." he said, as he handed it with utmost delicacy to Small Child.

He was smelly and drunk, but he wanted to give us something. I had left the hotel with nothing but a debit card and, literally, didn't have a cent. I told him that I was sorry, that I had nothing to give him. He said "That's okay...just enjoy it." I could tell that he'd been hoping for a transaction, but he was gracious nonetheless.

We find lessons everywhere, don't we?

[Summer]

You know, you hit it on the head when you said " It's hard to know HOW to help...". I once saw a man on the corner by the gas station next to the apartments where Mike and I lived when we were first married. Being 22 and fairly Non-flush with cash, we lived in a sort of seedy part of town where transients flocked. We were asked constantly by men and women for change, and whatnot, and we gave when and what we could. One day this man came to me while I was pumping gas. He asked me for money. Normally, I would have mumbled something incoherent about not having anything, but this day, I felt I would do something. I said,
" Sir, I don't have anything on me, but if you wait here I will bring you something. "
I finished pumping my gas, and went to Burger King, purchasing a few hamburgers, fries and a large drink. I felt really good, thinking he was going to be so happy to be able to eat something.
I pulled back into the gas station and motioned him over. I smiled as I handed him the sack of food.
" Here sir. Have a little lunch. "
He looked at the bag, He looked at me. Then threw it right in my face.
" I wanted Money!" he snarled at me.
I waited until I was out of the parking lot before I burst into tears. I was pissed. How dare he treat me this way when I tried to help him?
OVer the years, I still give a little change to those who ask if I have it, but never again will I go out of my way to try and help one of them. I"ve been burned.

[Ute]

Summer, that's just terrible. I understand that you're burned. Talk about not know how... or when to help.