Thanksgiving and the Homeless

With the approaching holiday, news programs are filled with suggestions and stories of how to reach out to the homeless.  It's very important that we, as a society, make concerted efforts to let them know they are not overlooked while we, ourselves, border on gastronomic gluttony.  It does, after all, help alleviate our guilt...making room for more gluttony.

We do suffer guilt for our perceived self-gluttony.  I propose that is not healthy.  I am not big on guilt at all.  I say, "Enjoy the riches of our lives!"  Simply enjoy all that life has to offer. Enjoyment of life's riches is appreciation.  And don't give from a perspective of guilt.  Surely that feeling will be passed through the gift to the recipient which cannot feel good.

The thought of "gifting" to the less fortunate brings to mind a scene in Les Miserables, one of my favorite among Broadway productions, where Jean Valjean has stolen silver from a bishop who has been kind to him.  Jean Valjean is caught by the police and returned to the Bishop of Digne who, after a slight pause, assures the police that he, the bishop, had given the silver to Jean Valjean.  That proved to be a trans-formative gesture in Jean Valjean's life, who went on to live a very productive life of responsibility and dignity. 

One never knows when a kind gesture might be significantly trans-formative.  As to those we deem to be less fortunate than ourselves, I would suggest a gift we can offer [in addition to food/shelter] is a shift of consciousness to see them as "real" people, to acknowledge their humanity, their dignity.  That acknowledgment, be it a gesture, brief kind word or simple nod,  is a solid investment; one which cannot be traded for alcohol or drugs and is a solid brick upon which they can use to start re-building their lives.

I am struck by people who participate in making contributions toward the homeless and then expound upon their contributions.  That leaves me with unsettled feelings.  Why not make the contribution and say nothing??  I remember, specifically, one year when I worked at a very popular tourist attraction.  Some fellow employees who enjoyed a very comfortable life themselves, saw a homeless man and, amongst themselves, put together a basket of food and a little cash to offer the man.  It was a generous deed, and I am certain the man was deeply appreciative.  But,  as to the "cost" of the contribution to themselves, knowing something of their personal lives, it was almost nothing.  And yet, each and all of them repeatedly told the story, to fellow employees and passing tourists alike,  of how they had given to that homeless man.  I couldn't help wondering if they really were making the contribution for him; or, in fact, the contribution was really meant to enhance their own images?  I don't care that they wanted to tell the story over and over in the sense that, in fact, they did assist that man.  I wonder how it might have felt...whether, perhaps, they might have walked taller, seen life with different eyes and felt with a different heart...had they done the same act and not repeatedly have spoken of it?  Did speaking of the act repeatedly "objectify" the homeless man, I wondered?  Were the homeless person a loved one, might we assist  without expounding?

 Of course, having them speak of it was better than the alternative:  no self-enhancement: no contribution.

There are often homeless in the park Ace and I frequently walk.  With few exceptions, I acknowledge them with eye contact and a hello or nod; occasionally, we engage in very light conversation. By the way, not a single one over the years has ever asked me for anything. And, while there are a few homeless who somehow manage to keep a pet with them [most often pit bulls], generally speaking one of the "comforts of home" so missed by those displaced, is a pet.  And, so it is, most often they like to reach out to animals.  Ace and I are very compliant.  It takes nothing from us, and clearly, makes a huge difference to them to be able to stroke and interact with Ace.  In case you wonder, Ace told me it's very OK with him.  I would not comply were he uncomfortable with it.   And, occasionally, he has pulled away from someone.  When he does, I totally respect that, trust his instincts, and we politely move on.

In his thirteen-plus years, we did have one very negative interaction.  Ace was about two years old and had never had, dare I say, a single negative life experience.  We were walking in Little Italy, approached a street light..waited for the ped crossing signal.  While we stood on the curb, a homeless man approached, commented on Ace, and in an instant, smacked Ace across his muzzle with his fist and took off running.  Needless to say, Ace cried out and just looked at me so perplexed.  If ever I had a propensity for violence, it would have been then.  I believe I could have done some damage to that person.  We called the police and Ace and I were guests in the police cruiser as we combed the area looking for the villain who, of course, knew the best secluded areas better than would we.  Let it be said, Ace and I have not let that experience define our activities and/or expectations.  And, bless Ace:  he still expects the very best of people.

So, back to our walks in the park:  One evening in recent years, soon after our arrival at the park, we encountered a tall, thin, very, very dirty, heavily bearded young man with coal black eyes.  When a person has been on the streets for some period of time, his/her appearance can be so abstract from reality that it can be difficult to guess how the person might appear under "normal" circumstances.  And, so it was with this person.  He was Caucasian.  His beard and hair jet black. I think, perhaps, he may have been young; perhaps in his late twenties. 'Cleaned up,'  I thought,  he may have been strikingly handsome. He, somewhat timidly, acknowledged Ace with appreciation, but did not reach out for him.  I smiled and nodded his way but Ace and I did not break stride.   I remember sensing a very positive, gentle energy about the fellow.

After an invigorating, enjoyable walk Ace and I were making our way to exit the park when a dark figure looked up at us from rummaging through a trash bin.  His eyes flashed a smile of recognition and I responded with a nod realizing he was the man we had seen upon our arrival.  He held up a hand to speak.  Gesturing as to apologize for "bothering" us, he told me he wanted to say, "Thank you."  No, really, he said.  "Thank you for smiling."  Momentarily struck, I again smiled, shrugged.
"Sure..." I responded, having paused.

"No.  Really."  he said.  "Look, I don't mean to bother you,"  he apologized.  "But, I really want to say 'thank you' for smiling.  Most people...most people... won't even look at us [homeless]...  I really mean it..."  he touched his heart..."I just want to say thank you for smiling."  His manner was so gentle.

I couldn't move.  I found myself gesturing toward my own heart and offering an extended palm toward him, unable to speak. Feeling incredibly humbled, "It was nothing.." I wanted to say, but not.  The moment was filling me with emotion.  Again, I smiled...maybe a kind-of-painful smile this time...nodded toward him and turned to be on our way.  I felt like fleeing...wanted to run because of the overwhelming emotion I felt...but tried to walk away  in a measured step with stiff, wooden-feeling legs.  I couldn't withhold the tears brimming my eyelids, spilling profusely down my cheeks.

 From my earliest childhood I remember Mother saying, "When you see somebody, offer a smile.  It costs you nothing, and you never know what difference it might make in their day."  And, goodness knows, I have thought of that at times in my life when I may have been going through a rough and/or trying time and I was the recipient of a complete stranger smiling at me, the kind of smile you know flows from the heart straight to the lips.  It's an almost tangible, validating, healing connection; not unlike a warm hug.  It's "Namaste."  It is, indeed, "Namaste."

And so:  back to Thanksgiving and the homeless.  I'd like to suggest we not only offer to contribute toward turkey for them; that we not only stand at the shelters and churches to help pass out meals.  I'd like us to consider how are we toward them when we are out in society, passing them on the street?  How do we speak of them amongst ourselves?   I would like to suggest that, as a society, perhaps we can make an effort to "see" the homeless for who they are:  real people.  That perhaps we can really engage in eye contact, a nod and a smile.  Offer "Namaste."  You never know what difference it might make in their day; in their sense of communion with humanity.  As well, it might be self-transforming.

And there you have it:  My own 'bragging' about my contribution to the homeless:  I gave a smile.  It has been a couple years since that particular experience in the park.  I did tell my kids about it at the time.  And now, I have boasted in a blog.  Good grief.

Ah!  Perfection!  Where art thou?  Life is a process.  All lessons, my own lessons.  I feel deep gratitude.