by Don P. Bick
minutes after 4:00 am and immediately spied 4 people, 3 men and one woman trying to keep warm. They were huddled around a fire they were doing their best to keep lit under the downpour, trying to ward off the chill. Although faces came and went in this part of town among the homeless there were also a fair number of people that had been on the streets in this area for years. At times I was heartened by someone recognizing me and giving me a kind word for my generosity when they needed help the most. Of course, some people were insincere but others were obviously grateful to have the meager handouts I brought with me.
The pickup’s windshield wipers were on high as I pulled to a stop near the foursome and got out of the truck. The four people turned to stare at me, wondering why I had stopped near them. It was hard to believe this was actually the same sprawling metropolis I called home. My neighborhood has beautifully manicured lawns and the gutters were clean. Lights lit up the streets and the homes were well taken care of, many behind large gates with high walls ringing their property. Here there weren’t any lights. Businesses were shuttered and closed, some boarded up. Nearly everywhere broken windows were visible and there was trash everywhere. It was like something out of an apocalypse movie where you would see there weren’t any active utility services after whatever destruction destroyed the city. Looking around you half expected to see a few zombies walking toward you down the street.
One thing I always found very surprising. Most of these people weren’t really greedy. They didn’t try to hoard one of everything I had and for the most part were grateful for any little thing I could provide to make their life at that moment a little more tolerable. Of course, there were those that I think were born con artists and tried to get everything they could out of me, including money, which I rarely gave out. Cash would only be used to buy alcohol or cigarettes, neither of which I was in the business of trying to provide. When I refused, some of the more insistent ones they would give up and walk away more often than not. Perhaps they didn’t want to draw attention to themselves by having the police show up, although getting the police here anytime soon was usually difficult, at best. I have tried it before. One man got so belligerent and angry I truly feared for my life so I felt I had no choice but to call 911. It was 40 minutes before an officer arrived! Fortunately, the man hurried away as soon as I began the call, not wanting to confront the authorities. There were other incidents too, but none that got too terribly out of hand. For the most part if someone got too pushy and I pushed back that would be the end of it.
I spent a few minutes with the four people around the fire handing out hot coffee and soup. I gave them a tarp and two of them needed a coat, which they gratefully accepted from me. I hadn’t met any of these people before. It’s hard to tell ages out here because of overgrown hair and unshaved faces. But the woman looked to be in her 40’s and her heavily lined face suggested she was an alcoholic and perhaps a drug user as well. I don’t preach to them. I don’t try to get them into any treatment program or anything like that. They know where the shelters are located and where to find treatment. I don’t believe you can force people to do something they don’t want to. And besides where do these people go after having been treated for these conditions? Back out into the street and the same lifestyle, is where. I’m only about making their lives a little more bearable in the present. I really have no way to help them long term.
I moved on and continued to do what I could that morning. I treated two individuals for deep gashes they suffered, one on their arm and the other on his leg. Perhaps they were caused by scaling a fence somewhere or maybe in a fight. I have no idea. I don’t ask questions, which is another reason I am usually pretty well received here.
And then I came upon Jim. I don’t even know if that is his real name. He is the one person I always made an exception to when it came to money. Every time I have ever seen him, and that is just about every time I come down here, he is lucid and one of the cleaner homeless people I have ever met. He didn’t smell and his clothes, although old and stained, seemed freshly laundered. Even his hair was trimmed compared to the average guy I ran across. I don’t know how he was able to do it but he did his best to stay as presentable as possible. And he was the nicest guy, probably in his late 50’s or early 60’s. I didn’t believe he was on drugs nor did he give me the impression that he was a heavy drinker. I think he was just one of the many that were truly down on their luck. I would always give him 2 twenties so he could get some good food and whatever else he thought he needed. He was always so thankful, he even broke down and cried the first time I gave him money, and that time it had only been twenty dollars. I have been coming out here for several years now and during that time I grew to believe that Jim had really fallen on some bad luck. Just a comment here and there by him or someone else drives me to that conclusion. He also seemed well looked up to and respected by others in the homeless community, at least the ones I have met.
After serving him some hot coffee and a donut I asked if he needed anything else, like a blanket or clothing. He told me no, he had everything he needed. I passed him 2 twenties, being careful so no one else would see me give him the money. As always, his eyes got watery and then he touched my arm in gratitude and uttered a sincere thank you. He never spoke much and when he was through with his coffee and donut he would quietly walk away, nodding his head to me in farewell and thanks.
The morning passed all too quickly. I was soaked to the bone and shivering from the cold, even though I was dressed for the nasty weather. Soon I was out of coffee, soup and donuts. It was time to return home. But I felt whole inside, a better person for having done this small act of charity for these people. There was no way at the time for me to know this would be my last day helping the homeless in these streets of poverty.
My life changed so drastically and so fast if I told you the whole story you would think I was making it up. Within a couple of months after my last charitable outing I lost my job. I also incurred a huge medical bill for heart surgery. I didn’t have any insurance, and the real kicker was I was being sued for things regarding my work that I am still not able to wrap my head around. The attorneys were able to take everything I had, and in such a short time and so easily I was astounded. Fortunately, I was single and childless so I didn’t have the added difficulties of ending a marriage or dealing with child issues and responsibilities. I didn’t have any close family members to go to for support either. My whole life and world collapsed.
With everything gone I ended up out in the street myself, something that was an unimaginable thing just a few short months ago. Where did I head? Well, of course I went to the only homeless place I knew, the desperate streets where I used to help the homeless. And now I was one of them.
As the months passed I became accustomed to life in the streets. It has a particular, I wouldn’t say charm, but there is something, maybe ‘attraction’ is a better word to describe it. There were no worries about bills or the stress that comes with living in today’s society. It was enough of a struggle just to stay alive, to eat, as well as dealing with the elements and those on the streets that would do me harm. I lost a lot of weight the first few weeks as I learned how to live in this other world. Gradually, I lost track of the days and my ambitious nature turned much tamer. I resolved myself to this life for the rest of my days. At first I did try to find a job, anything, but without any real address and with my appearance I didn’t have a chance. Oh, I tried to stay clean and neat looking but it was near impossible. I am awed that Jim was able to do so.
Speaking of Jim, I haven’t seen him or heard tell about him since coming to live out here. Perhaps he moved on, at least I hoped that was it and he hadn’t met with a worse fate.
The months passed and one day as I was looking through a dumpster behind a nearby restaurant it dawned on me that it had been nearly two years since I had become homeless! The thought hit me so hard I actually sat down on the dirty ally pavement and began to cry. How could all of this have happened to me I muttered o
ver and over through my tears?
“Hey, are you okay?” a man called out.
I turned to see who was talking to me and saw a smartly dressed gentleman wearing a very nice tailored suit standing where the alley met the street. He looked familiar but I couldn’t place him. Perhaps he was a businessman in the area and I had seen him before. It was 9:00 am. “Yeah, I’m okay,” I replied, although I am sure I looked anything but.
“How about some breakfast?” he asked me. “I was just about to go in here and get some,” he continued, gesturing toward the front of the restaurant. “Here, let me help you up,” he added as he walked toward me and reached down, helping me to my feet. “Come on, let’s get something to eat.”
I didn’t realize how weak I must have been. My knees almost gave out as the gentleman supported me while we walked toward the restaurant. He gave no indication that my smell or appearance bothered him in the least. “Thank you,” I told him, and sincerely meant it.
“My pleasure,” he replied, as he ushered me in through the door.
We sat in that place for over an hour. I