I see homeless people everyday. Usually they are standing at the exits to freeways or they hang out in front of drug stores. They all have a cardboard sign that says something about needing money for food and usually end with “god bless”. The smell of booze and weed is a constant and they all wear ragged clothes and obviously haven’t showered in months.
To be perfectly honest I don’t feel sorry for these people at all. They made the choices to take up drugs or drinking and do nothing with their lives. They may have had horrible home lives or had no inspirational role models but they had to know the difference between right and wrong. They are where they are in life because of the choices they made.
I’ve given my loose change to them a few times in the past. They are always as respectful, thankful and happy to get the money as they can be. They obviously don’t know how to talk real English and usually speak in street ghetto. I’m glad they have the manners to thank me for giving them the money but I feel like I’m just enabling them. I highly doubt the money I just gave them is going towards food, pretty sure it will go straight to their drug dealer or to a local liquor store. It’s now my policy to never give money to homeless people.
My wife was standing on a table a while back and fell off. She was fine but her arm really hurt and was getting swollen. Luckily she didn’t break it but she needed a sling and some pain medicine.
We went to the local CVS Pharmacy to fill the prescription our doctor provided us and on our way through the parking lot we were approached by a homeless man. My first reaction was coming automatically, just say “I don’t have money” and keep walking. I didn’t say or do that. I stopped and listened to this man. He was African-American, dressed in nice jeans and a button up t-shirt, kept a comfortable distance from me so he could still talk to me but didn’t invade any of my personal space or comfort zone, and he spoke intelligent English. He explained to me that he is just down on his luck. He lost his job, lost his house and his pregnant wife was down the street at a fast food restaurant (so as to stay out of the cold and rain). He wasn’t looking for money. All he wanted was canned food that wouldn’t spoil quickly, preferably in easy open containers because he didn’t have a can opener.
This man was either telling me the truth or he was a damn good liar. I believed that he was just down on his luck; the way he presented himself, the way he talked, no smell of booze or weed anywhere. I wanted to help this man and his wife. For a moment I seriously considered offering he and his wife a warm place to sleep and plenty of food to eat at my apartment. They could get a warm shower, wash their clothes, use the internet in an attempt to find work. I really wanted to help but I was hesitant and didn’t offer it to him simply because I didn’t know him. I handed him $5 (which really was all the cash I had on hand) and wished him the best.
Life should be about helping each other and being a better person. I have no doubt that I did help him with the $5 I gave him but I could have done better. I had the means to provide he and his wife more than just $5 but I didn’t do it because I was afraid. What if he was lying? He could have been telling me that story just so he could get money to buy drugs, but he didn’t smell like he did drugs or look like he had been doing drugs. He could have had a gun hidden on his person and once he got to my apartment pulled it out and robbed me, of course he could have also robbed me right there in the parking lot.
There are so many things that could have happened to me if I had opened myself up to him in the way I wanted to. I took the safe way and just gave him the money because I was scared. I was scared because so many other people make it impossible to trust a stranger. I wish I could go back and give myself the strength to make the offer available to him. I think about my encounter with him often and I truly hope his luck has turned around.
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