I remember when I was a kid and my dad was living in Savannah. I remember how, in the summer, my sister and I used to go and stay with him and on his days off we would sit in the parks and feed pigeons. I remember how helpless I felt when I would see homeless people. Those people who would walk by us, picking half-eaten hamburgers out of the trash cans. I would get so sad. I wanted to fix it for them. I still do.
The other day in Riverside, we were walking down the sidewalk right after nightfall and a man approached. He was deaf and had a note in his hand and tried to flag us down. Since I had fallen behind anyway and the rest of the group had sped up when they had seen him, I started to walk faster. It hurt me to not stop and read his note. It hurt me to stride past him. Even though I knew I couldn’t afford to give him anything. Even though he couldn’t speak to me. He couldn’t tell me if he was hungry, if he wanted a cup of coffee, if he just needed a cigarette. I felt guilty for not treating him with the respect that he deserved, just because he is human. He is a person just like me.
One Tuesday night, about a year or so ago, I should have been sleeping, but was out with Ricky and his crazy married friend (before I knew he was crazy) and we stopped at VI for a middle of the night breakfast. When we left, I boxed up every ounce of food at the table and left it on a bench where Paul slept. I wrote a note on the box wishing him a good morning and then drove away. I remember how CMG looked at me when I told him what I planned to do. It was combination of utter astonishment and complete confusion. But I went to bed that night feeling like a million dollars.
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My dad's family is from SC... in fact, my dad is the only one in his family that moved out of there and never went back (except to visit). I learned a lot about folks going to visit. I learned what passive racism looked like. I learned what "love your family no matter what... even if you don't like them much" really meant. And I got to see something that would affect my view of "bums". My uncle owned and operated a cabinet shop. Really productive. But messy. Lots of sawdust around. One day when it was just us hanging out, we went driving so he could show me around. Any time the car stopped at an intersection it seemed like there was a new person there coming up to the car and asking for money. Some had signs explaining their plight and others just came up with a perpared speech. In every case my uncle would offer them $20 bucks if they came to his shop and swept it. Would take maybe an hour to do a decent job. Another thirty minutes to do a perfect job. Even the guys just down the road from him (not even a mile walk) would say no. Some said yes but then wouldn't show up. I asked him two questions about it all. What would happen if they all showed up? "It would cost me a couple hunnerd bucks." Why do you do it? "I feel bad for 'em but at the same tmie, I worked hard for what I got and feel it's only fair to give 'em the same chance."
I love my uncle. I realize not everyone out there is just lazy or faking or doing a college term paper (you hear that one?) or liing in a motel with a car and eating fine dinners every night from the money they make but at the same time... I did the leftovers thing here. The guy looked at me funny like "Where's my couple of bucks, you bastard?" But later a friend of mine did it and the guy was extremely thankful. It's hard to tell and that sucks. Sorry to run on. Enjoy your day.
I remember this one guy, David, at JEA who was stone deaf but worked his ass off. He wasn't the only deaf person there but he was the one who came to the same meetings as I did so I met him. We had this one guy out front of the building for a bit who had those lil cards "I'm deaf, please help" and I remember laughing my ass off when he handed it to David. His basic reply was to sign "Get a job".
I'll shut up now. I am just REALLY bored at work and don't want to lose the hours by going home!
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