I just don't. I'm not going to apologize for it. I know its wrong and I should love and care for others, but one of my weaknesses is loving the homeless. I don't want to get close to them because I feel most of them suffer from mental illness that I don't want to get involved with. I also feel a portion of them choose to live that way. Homeless people scare me. I have never given them money and when I walk past them, I avoid eye contact at all cost. I have only given food to a homeless person one time and that was only because I knew if I didn't give it away I would eat it and I didn't want the added calories.
I'm not saying I'm right; I am just explaining why I feel this way. I do give money to my Church's homeless organization and I belong to a knitting club that knits scarves for the homeless. Those are the small things I do to contribute from a distance.
In the City, you get to "know" the homeless people you pass every day. I know that if I pass Grand Central Station on the east side of the street I will pass a larger woman wearing a long skirt and a baggy t-shirt asking for, "a quarter for a burger," outside the Wendys.
I know in east midtown, on Park avenue I will see the "luggage guy", who stands all day with his boxes wrapped in colored duct tape. He is probably one of the cleaner homeless men. He usually has his hair cut and his gray beard is normally tamed. He is harmless and just stands with his boxes all day watching people pass. He has made handles for his boxes made of the tape. A couple times a year he will find new tape and re-wrap all his boxes. I often wonder what is in all the boxes and more importantly what he is waiting for.
I know every morning on 49th street between Madison and 5th, a homeless man with matted long hair and wearing green pants that are too big will be stumbling around outside the Au Bon Pain. He won't ask for money..he just stands and looks at the pastries through the window. I have seen people give him food from inside the deli but he usually stares at it like he doesn't understand what to do with it or why they gave it to him. Every now and then he will pass out or fall over on the side walk.
I know on 3rd avenue between 30th and 40th I will pass the "boom box homie" who is always pushing a shopping cart full of his "belongings." On the top of his bottles and boxes in his cart is a boom box that is always turned too loud and playing his favorite tunes that he likes to sing to at the top of his lungs. He pushes his cart and stops at every garbage can looking for bottles. He digs through the trash and sings and taps his foot to the beat. He may be crazy, but he is happy every time I see him.
I pass these homeless individuals on a bi-weekly basis. I know where they are and how to avoid them. And when I see them coming I hold my purse tight and look the other way.
They bother me and I feel If I don't make eye contact then I won't see the hurt in their eyes.
I don't want to see the hurt because I don't want to feel bad for doing nothing. Every day.
Today one of those "gross, disgusting, crazy homeless people" got my attention.
I have passed this homeless women about 5 times now. She is always around Union Square and she always has her old, gray boxer by her side. The women looks repulsive and unhealthy. She has sores all over her skin and is always bent over looking half a sleep or coked out. I want to look away the second I realize who she is. Except, her dog catches my eye.
Today I couldn't look away. In a city that rarely takes time for the homeless, this women had someone that truly loved her. She was foul, ugly and probably a walking disease, however this ol' dog didn't care. The dog didn't care that people didn't like his owner. He didn't care that no one talked to them or fed them. To him, she is beautiful and loyal and he is proud of her. At one point the women got up and walked away. The dog followed. I snapped a few pictures because that's all I could do.
I leaned against a pole and watched this duo. Of course I didn't help; I just observed. I wonder why this dog loves her? I wish I understood this unconditional love he had for her. This blind, unrestricted, selfless devotion.
Her sign broke my heart. I can tell myself she is crazy everyday , but I can not deny that she was talking to me.
She is right. The truth does hurt.
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