Today
Today I met Paul.
I was sitting on a bench outside reading an old paperback edition of Prince Caspian. I had ten minutes to kill before my pizza would be ready.
He sat down quietly.
I heard him whisper in a low, lumpy voice, "I...need to talk to somebody."
I turned to see a middle aged man holding hunched over, holding his face.
"What's going on?"
"My dad died."
What do you say in this situation? My dad has not died. I can't relate.
"That sucks dude."
But I can't continue reading, I put my book down to really listen. He didn't say much, just sort of spoke in fragments. He had been cooking breakfast and went to see why his father hadn't come to the table yet. He was lying still in his bed. I don't understand life. I couldn't think of anything comforting to say. It started to sink in, his...dad...died.
Too much.
"I'm gunna go grab my pizza, be right back."
I returned, but he declined the pizza, accepting a cigarette instead. I still don't know what to say. He needs to get back to his house, which is miles away. I offer to give him a ride on my moped, but we both know that's not going to work out. He sees a cab with a phone number on the side. I call and get a price, $31 to take him home. Ouch. I have this habit of not carrying bills in my wallet so that I can honestly answer people who ask for money.
"I don't have any cash."
We decide to go to the Kroger across the street and I call the cab again and tell them to meet him there. I am fully willing to pay for this guys ride with my credit card, even go with him. He declines. He wants to go alone, wants me to go to the ATM.
"I don't give out money Paul."
"Please man, Please, I just need to do this alone."
"Sorry."
"Just eleven dollars, please!"
My faith begins to wane.
"Paul, I want to help you and I don't think giving you eleven dollars is really helping."
Empathy begins to mix with sadness, this isn't going to work out, he doesn't want my help. I look him in the eye and turn to walk away, carrying my pizza under my arm.
"Alright man, I just wanted to buy something to drink."
"I don't think that's gunna help."
Was this whole thing a plot to get beer, he could have saved me a lot of time and soul-searching if he had just been upfront. I begin to dismiss him in my head, stupid guy, wants to get drunk, what an idiot.
My mind flashes back to last night, sitting around with my coworkers at the company party, drinking like idiots.
Damn it.
On my way back to the bench my brain kicks into high gear trying to analyze what just happened. Was he lying? He obviously needs help. I'm a selfish bastard, what's $11?
A worn, bearded man sees my pizza box and asks if I can spare a slice.
"Absolutely."
I whip out a couple.
Yes, that was easy. I feel good. Much better than with Paul. Helping people should make you smile. Helping people should be quick and painless, like handing out pizza. I shouldn't have to think, or stress, make judgement calls, or become attached...I hope.
I was sitting on a bench outside reading an old paperback edition of Prince Caspian. I had ten minutes to kill before my pizza would be ready.
He sat down quietly.
I heard him whisper in a low, lumpy voice, "I...need to talk to somebody."
I turned to see a middle aged man holding hunched over, holding his face.
"What's going on?"
"My dad died."
What do you say in this situation? My dad has not died. I can't relate.
"That sucks dude."
But I can't continue reading, I put my book down to really listen. He didn't say much, just sort of spoke in fragments. He had been cooking breakfast and went to see why his father hadn't come to the table yet. He was lying still in his bed. I don't understand life. I couldn't think of anything comforting to say. It started to sink in, his...dad...died.
Too much.
"I'm gunna go grab my pizza, be right back."
I returned, but he declined the pizza, accepting a cigarette instead. I still don't know what to say. He needs to get back to his house, which is miles away. I offer to give him a ride on my moped, but we both know that's not going to work out. He sees a cab with a phone number on the side. I call and get a price, $31 to take him home. Ouch. I have this habit of not carrying bills in my wallet so that I can honestly answer people who ask for money.
"I don't have any cash."
We decide to go to the Kroger across the street and I call the cab again and tell them to meet him there. I am fully willing to pay for this guys ride with my credit card, even go with him. He declines. He wants to go alone, wants me to go to the ATM.
"I don't give out money Paul."
"Please man, Please, I just need to do this alone."
"Sorry."
"Just eleven dollars, please!"
My faith begins to wane.
"Paul, I want to help you and I don't think giving you eleven dollars is really helping."
Empathy begins to mix with sadness, this isn't going to work out, he doesn't want my help. I look him in the eye and turn to walk away, carrying my pizza under my arm.
"Alright man, I just wanted to buy something to drink."
"I don't think that's gunna help."
Was this whole thing a plot to get beer, he could have saved me a lot of time and soul-searching if he had just been upfront. I begin to dismiss him in my head, stupid guy, wants to get drunk, what an idiot.
My mind flashes back to last night, sitting around with my coworkers at the company party, drinking like idiots.
Damn it.
On my way back to the bench my brain kicks into high gear trying to analyze what just happened. Was he lying? He obviously needs help. I'm a selfish bastard, what's $11?
A worn, bearded man sees my pizza box and asks if I can spare a slice.
"Absolutely."
I whip out a couple.
Yes, that was easy. I feel good. Much better than with Paul. Helping people should make you smile. Helping people should be quick and painless, like handing out pizza. I shouldn't have to think, or stress, make judgement calls, or become attached...I hope.
posted by chap at 11:07 PM
6 Comments:
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
You helped them both. You protected Paul, even if momentarily, from feeding his life-sapping addiction and showed genuine concern. You fed someone who was hungry.
Helping people means caring. Caring always involves the heart. And, involving the heart always means there's a risk of temporary pain, rejection, feelings of inadequacy, etc.
But the rewards of bringing light into
a dark world...the rewards last forever!
Thanks for caring, Chap!
Wow, very interesting. you are such a good writer! I could feel your emotions. It's sad that there are people so adicted to something that they go to that extreme. did you feel abused? the sadder part is that this is why people are suspicious and guarded and miss a chance to truly care for the guenuine and honest person. there are programs that do a good job of reaching out, they develop relationships so the help is founded on mutual trust.
Been there, felt all that,struggled with that,and will probably "be there" again".Sounds like YOU have learned much already, dealing with your own feelings of wanting to do right by others.This helps me. More power to ya!You were "gentle as a dove, and wise as a serpent" Matt.10:16
i was with a friend recently, and this homeless guy walked up. my friend gave him $20. With stuff like that, you never know if the person's actually just down on their luck or if he is a career beggar. it just makes me so uncomfortable when people ask for handouts. i don't mind sharing, but man, the money i have was earned. it's an odd situation.
is kilo-gram grammy? haha! man, everyone reads your blog. well, i can't wait to see you. and i've gone back to xanga. so check it out! and your post was very well written and intersting.
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