I dropped my mom to the airport at five in the morning today. On the way, a world nearly invisible during daylight hours emerged. Near the intersection of
I thought, should I offer her money? Is it rude to offer money to a person who isn’t begging? What’s the point of giving her five dollars anyway, it’s a quick bandage that will make me feel like I did something but that really means nothing. I would rather give her food, but how exactly could I make that happen? I’m not going to run to 7-11 when I should be sleeping. I continued thinking and feeling my subtle emotions, policy solutions, quick fixes as I crossed the street to my apartment and hit eight on the elevator. What am I talking about? I certainly have food in my fridge to offer, it occurred to me. As I quickly put together a bag with three slices of rye bread, a little bit of raspberry jam, a plastic knife. I cut an orange into wedges and Ziploc-bagged it, put some leftover green-bean casserole into the microwave, and put a fork into the bag. I filled up a water bottle – that hadn’t yet been washed, but oh well – and put the water, green-bean casserole, and the orange into the bag. I hope she hasn’t left yet, I thought to myself.
I got back outside and couldn’t see her at first but as I approached the dumpster I saw her (him?) examining a clear plastic take-out box that only appeared to have some sauce on it. I tried to offer her the bag. Here, I brought you some food. As I approached, she shrugged away from me and into the corner, I couldn’t see her face and my approaching her was compromising her invisibility. I took out the green-bean casserole. See, it’s green-bean casserole, I offered gently. She shrugged further into the corner created by the dumpster and the wall of the building behind it. What to do, take the food back? I put the bag down near her feet and went back into my apartment. The voice of a homeless woman shouting at the character Mark from the musical Rent is ringing through my head: Who the fuck do you think you are?/.../My life’s not for you to make a name for yourself on!/.../Just trying to use me to kill his guilt.
A few hours later, when I was on my way to work, I walked past the dumpster to see if the bag was gone. It was still there, untouched, so I took it with me to work.
There is no quick fix. It seems like the people I saw this morning are facing greater adversity in their lives than I am in mine. I’m making all these assumptions about what they are going through, and maybe I’m way off. Who am I to try and chip away at social ills with green-bean casserole? I am thankful for having had this wake-up call. I am also thankful for my awareness, for a full fridge and an ability to share, and for my perseverance to keep chipping away.