On several occasions I have found myself annoyed with the panhandlers that gather at traffic intersections. They slow traffic down when people stop to give them money, but it's more than that. I can't look them in the eye. I almost never contribute to their meager earnings, and I always avoid eye contact. When I find myself the first car in line, I have been known to go as far as to fake a cell phone conversation to avoid looking at them.
I don't like this aspect of my personality, but there it is. Friday, however, my perspective of these people has been forever altered because of a horrendous scene I witnessed at the 405 Everett/Glisan off-ramp that feeds onto West Burnside.
The homeless man in question was quite dirty. His clothes were torn and soiled and his hair was long and matted. A silver jeep was slowing down and rolling down the driver side window, ostensibly to give the man some money. What I saw next sickened me. It is something I never could have imagined seeing someone do to another human being, especially in Portland.
The driver dangled a bill outside the window and the homeless man jogged up to his car to retrieve it. Just when the bill was within the man's grasp, the driver drove away, bit by bit. He went far enough each time to encourage the man to keep running, but every time he was almost even with the car, the driver kept going. It was a cruel and sickening exercise that was overwhelmingly reminiscent of a bully in the schoolyard: the big dumb jock picking on the strange, small kid.
This is a photo my brother Dan Eccles took several years ago of an alcoholic homeless man. Dan is a gifted photographer, as well as musician...
Finally the jeep was stuck at the light, and waved the homeless man over with the bill. I was relieved that I must have been mistaken - this man was going to give him the money but was waiting until he had the red light. My relief turned to sadness when I saw the game continue: the driver pretending to search for another bill, coming back with the one in his hand, and dangling it out the window as he raced off when the light turned green.
It is difficult to tell which was more painful to watch: the ugliness of mankind as illustrated by the taunting humiliation of the homeless man by the driver, or the desperation of the less fortunate shown through the fervor with which the man on the street ran after the dollar.
I pulled over and gave him two dollars, wanting to give more but still carrying around my wariness about giving cash to panhandlers. He was probably surprised by how upset I was, as I vocalized my disbelief at what had just happened to him. Frankly, he took it better than I did. "I don't want to cause any trouble," he said.
Unwisely, I followed the jeep driver to the next light. He was a young white man probably around the age of 30 - 35, and he and his female companion were having quite a good laugh over what he had just accomplished: the complete and utter degradation of another human being. He also looked like he had never missed a meal, unlike his easy target on the street corner. I pulled up next to his car and rolled down my passenger window, asking them "what is wrong with you people?"
They just laughed, which prompted me to next inquire whether any part of them had any human compassion. The driver smirked and said, "actually, no."
At that point I may have used a descriptive expletive referencing a certain body orifice.
The timing of this incident was especially interesting, because just last week I wrote a blog about the nasty and negative turn our political conversation is taking. My impression of this schoolyard bully and his companion is that they don't like homeless people, and they don't like being asked for money. These are the same types that probably say "get a job," when they walk by panhandlers on the street. How clever.
And that's fine if you don't want to give your money to someone who hasn't earned it - I don't think anyone would have any qualms with that. But to purposefully demean them, making them chase after a lousy dollar that you were never planning on giving them? That's unspeakably cruel. While I doubt the driver is reading this, as he didn't seem like the type to pick up a newspaper, I hope he does and that he recognizes himself. You weren't always like this, right? Did it start in the second grade, when you first felt the thrill of pushing the unpopular kid into the dirt while the other kids laughed? Tell me, please, what pleasure you derived from this behavior, and what does that say about you?
I'm making a donation to Sisters of the Road Cafe today. Will you join me?
**update**
I went running yesterday morning from my home, through the Pearl District, and headed to downtown Portland on my way to PSU and the dreaded stairs from my Easter posting. It was remarkable how many homeless people I saw - I tried to keep count but after a while I couldn't (my math skills being what they are, I can only count to around 25 or so). Right next door to Jake's Grill and the happy Sunday Brunch diners was this woman:
and her collection of belongings:
Sam Adams, are you working on this?
2 comments:
I'm hoping this is a letter to the editor, as you reference a newspaper, and that it will get read by many people who, though not the Jeep driver (I'm afraid you're right about him being a non-reader), may find themselves witnesses to something similarly depraved and be all the more prepared to assert themselves.
Hi Robin from your Uncle Mike.
About two years ago I started filling bags with bottled water, energy bars, and disposable raincoats and handing them out to homeless folks as I drove past. It was a tiny gesture, a minor inconvenience to slow down and give over a buck's worth of stuff.
After talking personally with some homeless people I know that these bags meant far more than I ever imagined. They actually had an impact - maybe the only food that person had for the day and the only shelter from the weather.
That knowledge helped me feel a little less helpless in the face of such inequity. I can get positively unhinged and righteous about an uncaring society but that just spikes my blood pressure. Somehow the act of giving helped put things in persective and had a calming effect.
Keep on writing and call out injustice where you see it.
Uncle Mike
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