Of a Homeless Life

It was a cold, foggy afternoon, and as I walked down crowed Powell Street, I noticed a man sitting cross-legged on the sidewalk, holding a cup with money in it as he violently shook. People, many of whom were tourists, turned away from him, afraid his poverty, tragedy and despair might tub off on them.

He had on a black and dirty worn-out jacket, ripped blue jeans and old, white Reeboks that seemed better suited for a garbage dump than for someone's feet. His face, bright red from exposure to the sun and wind, was marked with deep lines of worry and pain. His eyes looked distant and vacant, as though focused on something only he could see. As he opened his cracked, chapped lips, I could see some empty spaces where his teeth once were. His black, curly hair was the only way to tell he wasn't as old as he seemed, for he didn't have a great deal of silver white strands.

We fear what we do not wish to become. In this one man, we see the tragedy and suffering of the world. Day by day, as he struggles to live, we struggle not to become what he is.

I have just seen another homeless person today. This time a woman. Once again, people turned away from her as she hungrily begged for something to eat. Sure, she may be homeless, but she is just like us. She gets hungry, cold, sad, angry, and maybe, sometimes even happy.

Many of our minds are programmed to think the same thing every time we come across the homeless. We think that he or she deserves it. We assume that just because they're homeless, they are not only lazy drug addicts, but drunks, sluts and good-for-nothings. We are wrong to judge and condemn. We know nothing of these people. We don't know who they are or what they did to deserve such a fate. How do we know for certain they are lazy and don't try to improve their lives? Some are disabled and others may not be given the opportunity to find employment. When they beg for money and food, we don't have to turn the other way and run. There is a thing called charity. One need not open his wallet and give his latest paycheck, but a few cents wouldn't hurt. From past experiences, I have learned that a simple smile or friendly hello can make a world of a difference in a person's life. Sometimes a smile can make a person feel far better than money ever could. Like my friend Vladimir wrote to me in his email the other day, "...siempre acuerdate que una sonrisa habre el paraiso de cualquier alma... asi que a sonreir..."

As human beings, we don't only turn away from the unknown, but also from what we fear might one day be us. When we turn away from the homeless, without reaching out a helping hand, we are actually turning away from our fear. We don't want to live through what the homeless face every day. Hunger. Solitude. Despair. Poverty. And, instead of helping them, we kick them down, and little by little, help them die.