My next post unfortunately involves no drinking, of
alcohol at least.
Another gorgeous Florida morning went by
unappreciated as I bolted down the sidewalk, rushing to get to work. I still
had 15 minutes to spare, so my caffeine-deprived brain convinced myself I could
squeeze in a pit stop for coffee.
I darted through the front door of my favorite café,
nodding half-heartedly at other regulars while I maintained my beeline for the
counter. I ordered my usual: a large, black coffee and was handed my drink 30
seconds later. I thanked the barista and preceded to snap the lid on my cup,
when I realized I had been standing a couple feet from a rather raggedly looking
old man. His wrinkled, beard-clad face was deep in concentration as he rummaged
through his pockets for change to contribute to the pile of nickels and dimes
in front of him.
While he counted his change, I overheard the
barista tell him it would be $1.80 for his small coffee. My heart really went
out to this guy. Whether he was homeless or not, I knew the shame that came
along with hoping the last of your money would cover a tiny luxury. So, remembering
I had a couple dollars in my purse, I threw down the cash, told the barista I
had it covered, and told the man to have a good day. The old man didn’t seem to
notice what had happened, but I didn’t have time to talk, so I rushed back out
the door to get to work.
A few days later, I returned to the café to hang
out for my usual 3 to 4 hour study/writing session. The same barista who served
me previously greeted me, and I ordered my large coffee. To my pleasant
surprise, when I went to pay I was told it was no charge. Apparently, the old
man was so grateful, he wanted to buy my next coffee. The returned act of
kindness actually astonished me. While I knew nothing of this man’s
circumstances, when I left the two dollars on the counter, more than anything,
I felt good that he could save his change for some food later that day.
Instead, whether out of pride or kindness, he bought my next coffee.
When I sat down to begin my work, I found myself
rather distracted. I began to think about random acts of charity and the way
different people react to them. I wondered, had the old man realized I paid for
his coffee, if he would have accepted it.
There is a very loud group of Americans who
believe giving to a homeless person is enabling laziness, but I’ve met so many
who demonstrate the opposite. I have a long list of examples, personal and
general, of homeless people who rejected assistance. Too prideful to even take
food made specifically for them.
I began to tie these random observations together
and formed a question that applied specifically to those who see the homeless
as useless bums: if someone is willing to look down on another for asking for
help, are they willing to help the individual when they are trying to be strong
enough to fend for themselves?
Just like with the general population, the
homeless population has its share of assholes, but every homeless person is not
looking for their next fix. The sharp rise in the homeless population over the
past couple decades has had to do with lack of affordable housing and poverty,
not addiction. While I will be the first to testify to how irritating junkies
can be, the ones who should speak the loudest don’t speak at all. There are
plenty of people who have lost their homes, but try to hold on to their
dignity. Some never
ask for money, and those who do are simply trying
to feed themselves. It is the ones who don’t beg on the street that suffer
the most, I believe. There is a break in the stereotype that many are unwilling
to acknowledge.
Being American doesn’t make you special or
resilient to hardship; yet, some walk around thinking that the answer is as
simple as ‘pulling yourself up by your boot straps.’ But these same people
refuse to believe that sometimes that’s just not an option. I read an article
by Mark Manson recently that made
one point I couldn’t shake:
“If you’re extremely talented
or intelligent, the U.S. is probably the best place in the world to live. The
system is stacked heavily to allow people of talent and advantage to rise to
the top quickly.
The problem with the U.S. is that everyone thinks they
are of talent and advantage. As John Steinbeck famously said, the problem with
poor Americans is that “they don’t believe they’re poor, but rather temporarily
embarrassed millionaires.”
Not everyone is a Steve Jobs or Henry Ford. There
are some individuals with the talent, perseverance, cunning, and dumb luck to
push themselves to the top, but there is a reason we hold people like Oprah Winfrey
so high on the admiration scale: not everyone can do what they did. America has
its weak links, just like every other society, but it seems some believe that if
you aren’t one of these special people, then you can go fuck yourself, even if
the majority of Americans aren’t special.
I just wanted to reflect on the attitudes and
perceptions of the way some Americans feel about its weakest members of
society. It can be so much easier to stereotype and brush off the
“untouchables” as opposed to correctly analyzing every unique situation. For my
part, I will continue to be a cynic and hate all people equally.
“99% of all problems can be solved
by money -- and for the other 1% there's alcohol.”
― Quentin R. Bufogle
