Our yard was lightly ravaged by Hurricane Irene and I spent a day outside with my father chopping down the broken, falling limbs and cutting them down to size for firewood, clearing the driveways and yards from twigs and branches and hauling them around in the ride-on mower. My shoes got destroyed and I went to Journeys and ordered a pair before my wife, baby and I went on vacation to south Georgia for Labor Day to see my in-laws.
We came back on Tuesday and got back to Richmond in the late afternoon. We unloaded the car and let the baby run around the house; she was sick of being in the car. I took the car back out to put a full tank of gas in it and pick up my shoes while my wife watched the baby and caught my parents up on our trip.
The gas station is on Hull St. in Midlothian, a block west of the movie theater. I pulled into the strip mall with the ABC, Kroger, Babies R Us and Petco; the gas station was right across the parking lot. It was drizzling. As I pulled in I saw a middle-aged husky woman with bleached blonde hair and skin that had obviously spent too much time in the sun. She held up a cardboard sign and written in black marker it said "HOMELESS HUNGRY Please help if you can." I went to the Kroger and saw some last-day sandwiches bundled for $5.49 and a liter bottle of water for about a buck.
I pulled up in the nearest parking spot next to her and told her I had some food and water for her.
"Oh, I don't wanna be wasteful; I don't drink water."
"What do you drink?"
"Coffee and Coke."
"Those aren't...terribly good for you." I noticed her teeth were already solidly yellow and several were starting to rot brown. "Are you sure you don't want some water instead? Coke and coffee will wreak havoc on your stomach if you're hungry..."
"It's fine," she said, handing me back the water. "People are always trying to give me water; I've got about 20 bottles of it in my car; I'm livin' in my car."
I introduced myself as jonny - not as The Guilt, my would-be RLSH alter-ego - and she said her name was Tracy. I started to say my farewells - I was new to this whole philanthropy/charity/RLSH thing, but as far as I could tell, the transaction was about finished.
"Ok; well I'm gonna get - "
"Hey, could you buy me a hot chocolate?"
"Um...I don't really have any more money."
"I wasn't asking for your money; just go over to that coffee shop and get me a hot chocolate. They won't sell me one."
"Oh, I'm sorry. Uh, sure, give me a minute and I'll be back."
Sheepishly I drove across the street to the coffee/sandwich shop and waited in line for a hot chocolate. I told the cashier (who was also the manager on duty) I was buying it for the homeless lady outside and asked if he had any pastries they were getting rid of. He said they donated to shelters every day who re-bake them and give them out, and I said that was no problem. Then he gave me a larger hot chocolate than I'd asked for without charging, and he slipped a muffin into a bag and handed it to me and winked. It reminded me of my interview over a year ago with Peter Tangen. Pete had said something to me along the lines of "The world opens up for things that belong in it, and [the RLSH community] is just one example of that." On the other hand, I thought back to some other interviews I'd conducted with RLSH who had said that not everybody needs to don an outfit and mask to go feed the homeless.
So I took Tracy's hot chocolate and muffin back to her. Just then another car drove up and a woman in white capris and sandals handed her two $10 gift cards to McDonald's. I stood there, holding the hot chocolate and muffin, all of us getting rained on, while the woman in capris made Tracy promise her repeatedly that she wasn't going to trade her gift cards for drugs or alcohol money. She spoke to her like a child.
"You do understand how important it is to take care of yourself, right? Okay, now I'm gonna give you these cards, but you need to buy food with them; do you understand? Food?"
Tracy agreed, and then asked the woman for some money too. The woman declined and hurriedly got back in her car and drove away. As she was opening her car door, Tracy shouted after her, "My grandmammy always said ain't no harm in askin'!" Tracy returned to me and I gave her her treats and she said the sandwiches were good.
"Yeah; where'd they go to? You didn't already eat 'em that fast, did you?"
And she said "No; I put 'em over there," and she pointed to a pile of food including the sandwiches, McDonald's gift cards, a doggie bag from a nearby restaurant and, in the following moments, the muffin I got her. I was about to happily explain to her that it looked like she was doing pretty well for the day when another car came up and rolled down their window. "Hang on," Tracy said, and a pair of women's hands adorned with jewelry handed out a small Red Lobster bag to Tracy, who asked them also for some money or some more food. The window went back up and they drove off.
We said our farewells and I told Tracy to take care of herself. On the way to the mall to get my shoes, and the half-hour drive home, I thought about the whole thing. For the most part, I felt adrenaline - like I'd just gotten in a fight and won. I paid money I couldn't really spare to buy food for someone who needed it more than I did; I didn't assume she was a drunk or a junkie; I did a good thing for no other reason than I felt, of my own free will, like doing it. On my end, there really were no Strings Attached. All I really desired was a "thank you," and even that made me feel like I was holding it over her head, so I'd decided I didn't care if I got one or not. I thought about the guys who made Bumfights and I almost cried for the sheer lack of humanity in that. I thought about the women who were obviously afraid of Tracy or believed she was a drug addict and helped her out conditionally, or fearfully. Their body language said "You can have this, just promise you won't hurt me." And there was no cause for that, from my experience.
I thought about the last homeless person I tried to help. I was in San Francisco in high school and I saw a guy with nothing. No shopping cart, no backpack, just the shirt on his back and a handwritten sign. He asked me for money. I told him, truthfully, that I didn't have any cash, but I'd be happy to go to a restaurant and get him a meal. He looked at me like I'd just insulted him and said "Fuck you," and I turned and left, the homeless man unleashing a torrent of curse words and spit in my direction. I had been so mad, scared and sad that I threw up in a trash can a half-block away.
I think we learn to approach the homeless with a sense of fear and entitlement, that they should be indebted and awe-inspired by every cup of coffee or quarter we cast their way. So as it started to dawn on me that Tracy had gotten enough food and food money to feed herself for nearly a week in a 10-minute stretch, I felt a little silly having gone for her hot cocoa and muffin too. But I realized it may be the only food she gets for the next week so I put it aside.
What an experience. All in all, it felt great. I drove home blasting Jane's Addiction as loud as I thought the car stereo should push it, and Dave Navarro's ripping guitar solos brought new energy to me. I realized I'd have to explain why it took me two hours to get gas and go to the mall, so I started thinking of all the reasons I could offer for buying Tracy just two days' worth of food.
If our baby were in the same position in 50 years from now, I'd like to think someone would stop and do the same.
It was just my turn.
It was the right thing to do.
I wasn't hungry for dinner; otherwise that $7 would've gone to a meal I'd eat half of and throw away.
She could've been anyone's mother, and she is someone's daughter.
Had I not written Penny Cavalier, I don't know that I would've stopped. Maybe my sources should take, as payment, that I was inspired enough to make a difference for someone this one time, and that I'll probably do it again in the future.
So the big question is: does this make me a Real-Life SuperHero?
No.
But it's not because it doesn't count. Quite the opposite, in fact: It's because there's a big difference between a one-time sandwich purchase and a lifestyle of community-based charity and benevolence. I see people like Thanatos, Zetaman, Life, Geist and countless others making philanthropy into a full-time job and becoming a known figure in their cities; collecting food, goods and toys from vendors and citizens willing to give them away and making sure they get in the hands of dozens - even hundreds - of the needy; getting elbows deep in the part of society most of us try to ignore...and then I see that I took a pit stop at a grocery store on one occasion and snagged a bag of sandwiches and a hot cocoa for one person out in the 'burbs. I didn't humiliate or ignore Tracy, but $7 doesn't make me Captain America.
But I think the important thing is, it's a step in the right direction. If everyone who could buy a meal or some toiletries or supplies for a homeless person did buy them, it may not solve the problem...but it wouldn't hurt. Indeed, it would probably give enough of us a natural high that we'd want to perpetuate outreach beyond writing a check or slipping a dollar into the Salvation Army tin.
On my way home I thought about all this. My mind raced. I got home and apologized for being so late. My wife asked.
"What took you so long?"
"I um...I stopped and fed a homeless lady. I hope we had $7 on the debit card."
"Oh. Ok, that's fine."
And we all went back to what we were doing.
