tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4960867419941354709.post5226790158409941935..comments2015-01-04T06:42:40.016-08:00Comments on Quotidian Musings: Simple connectionUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4960867419941354709.post-63469110075857766372009-10-28T09:30:32.912-07:002009-10-28T09:30:32.912-07:00I've been told that I'm foolish to give th...I've been told that I'm foolish to give them money because they might be panhandlers and not really need it. That's true. They might be. But I know for sure that a very tiny percentage of them are panhandlers and most desperately need it. It's not a pleasant thing to have to do. How can I tell the difference and how could I risk not giving a couple dollars to someone who desperately needs it to prevent being panhandled for a dollar or two? <br /><br />I know from a nurse who was a student of mine several years ago that a substantial number of them are veterans of different wars who never got help for PTSD. She herself was an Army nurse during the 1991 Gulf War and now treats returning wounded and traumatized. She keeps extra money with her all the time to hand it out because she definitely feels connected to them. <br /><br />I learned to speak to them when I was waiting at a stop light and a woman got off a bus, walked to the island where I was waiting, and opened out a cardboard sign. It said something about needing help to take care of her children -- and she looked frightened to be there. I looked directly at her and gave her a few dollars and told her it wasn't much, but I hoped it would help some. She immediately started apologizing and told me that she does work, but had medical conditions that prevented her working full time and it just wasn't enough to take care of her children. So I said a few more words to her about hoping she could find some way to make ends meet, but in the meantime maybe this would help.<br /><br />On the parking lot of a supermarket one day, I was going to my car and I saw a young girl talking to an elderly man while he put his groceries in a very large SUV. She looked like any of my students at the university, clean, dressed like them, and she seemed on the verge of tears because the man didn't even acknowledge that she was there. I think it would have better if he had yelled obscenities at her, but he totally ignored her as if he couldn't hear or see. When he left, she visably changed -- her shoulders sagged and she looked totally dejected. She saw me and asked if I would listen to her -- not help her, just listen to her. I heard her and saw her, unlike the man before, and told her of course I would as soon as I got my bags in the car. She told me she had lost her job and gotten into a bad financial mess, but she had found a new one and would start in a week, but she was about to lose her apartment. She was just hoping she could enough money to pay her rent and not lose everything she had until she could get sorted out. I gave her a couple dollars. I'm sure that wouldn't pay her rent, but again she was a different person. Her face brightened and she was as happy as if I had given her diamonds and was profusely thanking me. I had to finally tell her she needed to go find someone else and try to get some more money. <br /><br />Another former student felt the same connection mentioned in Laura's story. She was going home one evening, in the winter, and saw a homeless man trying to make a bed in a doorway with a cardboard box. As she looked at him, she suddenly saw her father in this stranger. Luckily, she had an expensive light blanket in the trunk of her car and gave it to him. She said that since that time she always keeps an expensive blanket there for precisely that purpose -- she couldn't get over seeing her father's face in that homeless stranger.Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4960867419941354709.post-56400048353198721472009-10-27T20:59:15.449-07:002009-10-27T20:59:15.449-07:00Thank you for hitting the nail on the head.
You go...Thank you for hitting the nail on the head.<br />You got it. <br />I have stumbled upon some not so kind comments, and it amazes me. <br /><br />My children were never in danger. TRUST ME on that one. I am not out to solve the homeless crisis. I am not a Saint. I see MANY homeless. I always DO close my window. But THIS TIME, I didn't. And it changed me. I saw myself in this person. And it touched me. CHANGED me.<br /><br />I have had people question my own financial state since I am paying for art classes and happy meals...I have had people accuse me of putting my kids in danger...and all I can think is "THIS is what they came away with? really??"<br /><br />this is the risk of blogging I suppose. These people dont me. And all they have are my words. And that is fine, really. That is OK.<br /><br />But how great it feels to read your post...because you DID get it.<br />I am not out to change the world..I may never help another homeless person again..and I did not offer this man food thinking that my children would benefit from seeing their mother do such a thing...<br />and I certainly did not write this thinking that it would circulate around the internet the way that it has. <br />But it has.<br /><br />It was a moment. A connection. I gesture that made me feel good. A morning that got me thinking. That is all.<br /><br />I wonder what Roger would think about all of this????<br /><br /><br />...thanks...xoLaurahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/15985522830610197074noreply@blogger.com