In a city, we often learn to shut out the view of the homeless, the beggars at the corner, the ragged newspaper salesman in the median, or the people with signs standing stooped at free way entrances. It’s painful. It hurts to know people have it so bad, and we really don’t want to see it.
It triggers my inner struggle. I’ve heard dozens of scam stories – the people who work the medians and then end their day driving home to their nice homes in their nice automobiles-- the one who brags how much money they scored in a day of begging, laughing that they didn’t have to work at all. There are scams on TV, the internet, and on the radio news of all types, classes, and professions.
But, you can TELL who is indigent. The leathered skin, the worn clothes, the gaunt bodies. They can’t be faking it. In this economy, it’s very easy to lose a job, and then your car, and then your home. When 2000 people in Tucson show up for 200 jobs at Target at a job fair..you KNOW it isn’t easy. Don’t we all need help some times?
I’ve done hundreds of hours of donated work in my life, and helped with March of Dimes, Retarded Citizens of Wisconsin, Northman Drum and Bugle Corps (a teen’s marching group – not helping homeless and poor, but providing opportunities for youth) Primavera, Interfaith Community Center, and the Tucson Food Bank – to name a few. It doesn’t make the desire to make their pain go away any less. And I know daily I have blessings so much more than so many.
This past weekend my husband and I had a date night, and decided to go downtown to the University District, with a detour into the Y Generation night life on Fourth Avenue.
The main university district was maybe 2-3 blocks long and well populated – a buzzing and upbeat location. We decided to walk the 7 or 8 blocks through the college residential area over to Fourth Avenue, the home of our twice-yearly Street Fair.
Right away it struck us was how dimly lit it was, and so sparsely populated for 7-8 pm Friday night. On top of that, we didn’t see a single police car, bike cop, or foot patrol the entire evening. About half of the reatil shops were closed up. The bars and restaurants were open and had small clusters of people spilling out of doorways.
We got nervous. My husband, the retired NY policeman, reminded me to walk with authority with my head up. I told him to look mean. (HA) We passed a few homeless sitting on the sidewalk and one man singing away with a tip jar. I thought about giving, but in the dark, I was afraid to open my purse. I was afraid to draw attention to myself.
After dinner, we left an Italian place and I had half my dinner. I’d specifically ordered a meal with two chicken breasts, intending to bring one home.
We started a brisk walk back, at this point just wanting to be home. I noticed we huddled closer together, especially every time we had to approach or were passed by strangers. The trees looked taller, the hedges more overgrown…we even crossed over to a more open side of the street. By this time my purse was under my coat. We confided to each other we were a little worried about mugging. There just wasn’t enough pedestrian traffic, or light, or patrol.
A young man with a backpack passed us and my husband thought he heard him ask for money. I heard different.
“Can I have your leftovers?” He asked. He asked again, very quick, without stopping his walk. I turned around and followed him.
“Sure”, I said. “I didn’t even touch it!” He grabbed it and hurried down the road.
My husband asked, “What did he ask for?” He looked down at my empty hand.
I said, “He asked for the right thing.”
He just wanted food, and it was something I could give.
It didn’t sound like a scam to me. How many of us would ask a stranger for food, if we actually had a choice?
We reached our car about 15 minutes later and my husband let out a deep sigh. We’re going to save Fourth Avenue for daylight hours from now on.
What CAN we give in these times?
I think times are going to be tough for a lot more, a lot sooner.
What can we give?
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