I like to think I'm a good judge of character, motives, and the genuineness of people. I also like to consider myself a compassionate person, though these days, when out and about one can never be too careful. PinF has always had an ability to talk to all people-irrespective of race, color, or station in life, knowing well that there's good in all of us and that none of us is immune to the pitfalls of life.
And so it was yesterday that I would find myself in one of West Palm Beach's less than picturesque neighborhoods while working--you might call it "seedy". I think you can get the picture no matter where you live when you consider the economic climate and of the profound effect it's having on those less fortunate than you. This is a neighborhood that by day looks innocent enough, but by night you'd be sure to avoid. Where scruffy men drink beer out of cans in paper bags, and women of nefarious intent prowl the main street. Edgy for sure, but nothing where you feel endangered by daylight.
I had stopped into 7-11 to grab a paper and a coffee and had just gotten in my car and took a phone call. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him. Three clear plastic bags with what appeared to be his life. Reasonably well dressed, newer sneakers, clean shaven--he didn't look the part. For in that instant our eyes met--and I knew instinctively what this often means---he was going to approach me like so many other unfortunate people for any "loose change". Seems Florida has a disproportinate amount of street and homeless persons--due in large part to the climate.
As I spoke on the phone with a wary eye to my car's side and rear view mirrors, I saw the man take a shaking, almost spasmatic step from the curb. As he moved closer I recognized his Palsy-like symptons and watched as he struggled the twenty-feet or so to where I sat in my comfortably idling, and locked vehicle. He was putting forth each clumsily paralyzed foot and willing his body to follow; strained, almost pained looks filled his face. By now he placed his bags on the pavement in front of the 7-11 in an effort to better navigate his way towards me.
Clearly he was zeroing in on me, our brief glance moments before setting the scene for this encounter, now made much more dramatic by his arduous approach. He mimed for me to rolll down my window, though ever so politely, as he was acknowledging I was on the phone. I finished my call, rolled down the window and I as I greeted him with good morning, he began to slur his words to me, struggling with emotion. "Excuse me sir, I'm a Marine with Cerebal Palsy and I need help".
Like I said, I've seen my share of homeless drunks with far flung stories. But something on this guys face, the way he was dressed, and the way he struggled so mightly to take three or four steps told me this guy was for real, and he needed a little help. I asked him what was going on? He said he was Veteran who served in the Marine Corps, and by the look of him he didn't seem much older than myself. He said he was diagnosed a few years ago and has been in and out of the VA hospital. He admitted he maintained a one bedroom flat in this dubious neighborhood, but that he had no money and was in need of a meal.
Normally I'd take what ever loose change in my console and dump into a grimy hand. Not today, he looked too hungry, too desperate. He asked if I could spare some change so he could get a "donut or something". I handed him a five dollar bill. A stunned look came over his face and he started muttering "..Oh my God, oh my God..", "thank-you and more God bless you's soon followed, and how "I didn't know how much this meant to him". And as he struggled for the right words, I watched as a tear that had been welling in his eye finally broke free and ran down his brown weathered face leaving a track of pain. I told him him God Bless him too and to stay strong. With his he turned to struggle back to his three clear plastic bags that held his belongings.
Just as he got to the door of the 7-11, he turned to me and said he was going to go to the Publix supermarket, "because he could make his $5.00 go further there than at the 7-11 and get something he could put on the stove". I told him good idea.
Problem was---the Publix was another 2 blocks away. Kind of put my day, my life and my world into a much needed perspective.
