Around
my wife’s workplace, there is a large congregation of homeless men. They stand on the street corners near the
freeway and beg for money. I used to
feel sympathy for such people, but that faded long ago. You hear stories about people offering them
food, clothing, or employment; and the homeless men turn it down, because what
they really want is cash. One can only
surmise that they want it for alcohol or drugs.
Maybe not all, but most.
So,
now I just feel sad that men would be so lazy or so chained to addiction that
they would choose to stand on a corner and beg, sleep under an overpass, and wear
clothes that are so dirty that the original color can’t be determined anymore. But they are still human, and they deserve at
least that courtesy and respect. There
is no reason to treat them badly. Ignore
them if you must, but don’t treat them badly.
I
was sitting at a stoplight one day, waiting to turn, and one of the homeless
men started crossing the street. He was
dirty, unshaven, and his skin was leathery and tanned. His head constantly twitched like he couldn’t
stop his neurons from firing, and he was bone skinny. He was in the crosswalk and had the “Walk”
sign, so by all accounts he had the right-of-way. But for some reason, the car next to me
started edging up on him, getting closer and closer, like it wanted to run him
over. The homeless guy flicked them off
and swore at them, but never stopped walking.
When
he started to cross in front of me, he looked straight into my window, scowling
defiantly, daring me to do the same. Our
eyes met, and I nodded to him. His
entire face broke into a smile, and he nodded back. That’s all it took. Just showed him a little respect, and it
changed his entire demeanor. And at that
moment, I didn’t pity the homeless man, I pitied the driver of that other car.
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