So I turned around. | Blog Post Discussion | Forum

9:45 pm

He was still there. Leaning up against the wall in the dark. I pulled up one space over and parked. Then I stepped out of my car and walked up to the man…

“I was a jerk. I’m sorry. I didn’t let you finish. What were you going to say?”

He didn’t actually seem surprised to see me, but it was dark and I couldn’t really see his face very well.

He said, “I live outside. And I’m hungry. I was going to ask if you had anything you could give me so I could eat.”

I reached into my pocket for the 5 dollar bill I’d separated from my wallet…

“Here’s 5 dollars.” I said as I handed it to him,  ”Again, I’m sorry.”

There was a change in his voice, “It’s ok. Thank you, sir.”

In an awkward gesure, I reached forward and patted him on the shoulder — then I turned back towards my car and started walking. And then stopped. And turned around.

He was still looking at me.

I wanted him to know something. It felt important.

“There are good people in the world.”

I felt compelled to say it. I didn’t want him to think that everyone was like…me — how I was.

“Keep your chin up.” I finished.  And again felt awkward and self-conscious.

“I will.” he said. And then he stepped five paces to the front door of Subway and walked inside.

I got back into my car and drove to where I was originally heading.

And then I took out my laptop and wrote what you just read.

10 minutes earlier…

I just finished my sandwich and stepped out of Subway and towards my car parked in front.

“Excuse me, sir–” began the black man with the backpack on…

“I’m sorry man, I don’t have any cash. I can’t help you.”

He stopped talking — defeated.

He may have said “Ok.”, but I was too busy getting into my car. Then I sat there for a minute looking out the window at the man. I didn’t feel good, but I started my car and drove out of the parking lot.

At the stop sign before turning onto the road I hesitated, but I was already in line and there was nowhere else for me to go but forward. Still, it didn’t stop me from thinking about what I’d just left behind me — how I acted.

I’d said so little — but I’d said so much. And I didn’t like it.

I pulled out onto the road and started driving away from the place where I had just disrespected a man simply because I thought he was going to ask me for money. I couldn’t even be certain of that — because I didn’t even let him finish what he was going to say. I’d acted like I just didn’t care.

But I did care, but nothing I’d done had said that. In fact, I was a jerk to the guy.

This isn’t who I want to be. This isn’t me. Is it?

IS IT?

I remember the first time I ever became intimately aware of a homeless person — it was a young woman and her son standing in a median just before the Bangor Mall in Maine  – and how it made me feel.

I saw myself standing in that median — as both the mother and her child. It made me sad. I remembered hearing it wasn’t good to give homeless people money — that they would often just buy drugs or alcohol with it — so I didn’t give her money.

Instead, I drove to a grocery store half a mile away and bought 2 bags of food. I didn’t know what I was doing — I didn’t know what “homeless people” ate — I just grabbed stuff off shelves and tossed it in my cart. “If I was a homeless person, this is what I would want to eat.”, I thought.

And then I drove back to the median and handed the bags to the woman and her child.

All I really remember about that moment is that they didn’t seem very happy about my gesture and I wasn’t sure why. But still, I felt like I’d done a good thing.

I continued down the road and I thought about how living first in San Francisco and then Santa Monica/Venice, California  and then Las Vegas changed my perception of the homeless — because there were so many.

I thought about how the frequency of run-ins with the homeless had desensitized me and often made me act reflexively without thinking.

I remember how I used to give homeless people dollar bills and change, but after a while it became a burden. It felt unfair. Why give to some people and not others — what if some are just good liars? What if I was giving money to the wrong types of people?

And what about me? I can’t give money to every homeless person who asks — I won’t have anything left to give. So I just stopped giving. I didn’t know if that was the answer, but it seemed more fair somehow. And at least none of them would use the money I didn’t give them to buy drugs or alcohol.

And I realized that even if this man was just looking for money to buy those things, I didn’t even give him the chance to say what he wanted to say. And that he didn’t deserve to be treated as I had treated him — and that it wasn’t how I wanted to be. And even if I had nothing to give, he’s still a human being — and I hadn’t shown him any compassion.

It made me sad. It made me disappointed in myself.

But I was already driving away — what’s the point of turning around? I’ll just “fix myself” for next time. I’ll react differently next time.

But then I thought about the man again. And I thought about how I always say “I want to make a difference” and how hypocritical it was for me to say that while driving away from an opportunity to do so. And even if I didn’t have anything to give the guy, it wasn’t about money.

I was a jerk to the man. I didn’t have to be rude. And I could at least apologize.

So I turned around.

– End –

Follow-up (45 minutes later after this happened)

I’m sitting here in a hotel parking lot just having written this. It’s rough, but it’s an accurate account of what just happened.

I was a jerk. And I’m not perfect. And I disappointed myself.

But I at least feel better about turning around and trying to make up for my mistake. In a way, it gives me hope. Just having tried to make amends — when it would have been easier not to — means that there are other people out there who must do that, too.