Poverty

Today was a windy, rainy day.

On the way home from the hellhole that is clinic #2 (I'm glad to have full-time work again, right? Right?) I saw a man begging at an intersection. Not really noteworthy. We have a lot of panhandlers. I've seen people turn their noses up at food, spend donated money on cigarettes, choose panhandling because it pays better than a minimum wage job, etc, etc. I've never given money to a panhandler; whatever problem they have, that's probably where the money is going to go, and nothing has been fixed.

The vehicle a few cars ahead of my stopped to hand him something when they could have gone through the light before it turned. The car behind them honked in protest.

As I sat there it dawned on me that he was... eating. Before the light turned back to green, he had inhaled the contents of the tupperware and handed it back to the person in the car.

I didn't read his sign. I think it said veteran, but the signs will say anything. My stomach turned as I looked at the snacks I had bought just last night and put in my car to keep me from buying fast food.

I held the box of Ritz sandwich cracker packs out as I passed. He said "Thank you" as he took them.

We'll have ice storms on Friday. Tomorrow I'm going to Wal-mart and buying a fleece top and a camping blanket and a toiletries pack and something else to eat. I hope he's there again.

I haven't told anyone about this. I'm not trying to make out like I'm some grand person for giving a man some crackers. I know, of course, that desperation like this exists. But I don't usually look it in the eye and have it talk to me.