Late last night I did something I have never done before. I bought food for a homeless man. It was not a five-star meal, nor did it fulfill the basic four food groups. But to him it would be food, just plain and simple food.
It happened right in front of one of the new mega-supermarkets that are popping up all over the Triangle. Kroger, Harris Teeter, Food Lion, Walmart, Target, they are all the same. Huge, bright, undistinguished, and downright sterile, it is hard to tell one from the other. How many times have you been in one and actually forget which one you were at?
We all see the homeless everyday. Or maybe we choose not to. Nameless, they shuffle by requesting any hand out. Sometimes the faces become familiar, yet we still manage to look away. While this can continue for weeks and sometimes months, we eventually we do look. It is impossible not to. Eventually your eyes connect.
Theirs are sad, pleading, but proud. Yours embarrassed, unsure and at times indifferent. What to do? Where will my handout go? Booze? Drugs? Or to a meal and nights sleep in a shelter with a bed instead of a frozen sidewalk? This confusion usually leads to the rationalization that the best response is to do nothing at all. Say nothing and simply walk by. He will be fine we assure ourselves as we enter our enclosed cars, heated homes, and warm beds each night.
The other night was the first real cold evening in recent memory. One of those North Carolina days where you wondered where the summer had quickly disappeared to. I had the munchies and the only thing that was going to make everything feel right was a handful of Double Stuff Oreos® and milk. Skim milk of course - I am watching my weight.
My stride quickened as I neared the brightly glowing store located around the corner from my apartment. I could actually feel the sugar high already. I would fall into a deep junk food induced coma after consuming half the bag. Nothing could stop me now. I was on a mission.
He was standing directly in front of the main entrance doors. I realized that there would be no way to avoid the man. He was shaking a jingling stained coffee cup. His exposed hand and fingers were crisscrossed with deep grooves. Cracked and dirty fingernails curled around the cup, which he shook like a tambourine. With unexpected grace he stepped aside as the automatic door opened inward.
“I would have held it for you,” he mumbled, “but it goes by itself,” he said with a little smile. The wide exaggerated sweep of his hand welcomed me into the store. “If you can help me on the way out I would truly appreciate it,” he finished strongly with a final half bow.
I walked past as if he was not there. I never looked back. Not even the tiniest head nod to show him that I knew he was there. Nothing. What did I care? And to be honest I was still cold and wanted to get inside. Where was the cookie aisle?
But as felt the warmth from the store inside I did look back. I watched as the man politely repeated his greeting with customer after customer. Not one person spoke to him or even answered his question. He was still outside. I was inside. He was still cold and I was rapidly warming up. There was only a few feet, between us, but it could have been a thousand miles. Snapping out of my daydream I wondered what had come over me? Where was the conviction I had shown only moments before to feed my need for full-contact-cookie-dunking? I had to focus.
Off I went in search of Oreos and milk. I would be strong and complete my mission. Nothing would stop me. But I just could not shake the image of the man outside and all the people walking right by him. Maybe I could do something. But what? I could not give him money. I would never know where the money would go once it made it into his hands. So what could I do? And then it finally hit me. It was so obvious and right in front of my face. I was in a 30,000 square foot store filled with something he would want – food! Not only would I buy my cookies, I would now also get something for the man outside.
Aisle after aisle I roamed looking for the perfect snack for the man. For some unknown reason it had to be the perfect item for the starving human being standing in the cold outside begging for scraps. I immediately ruled out canned goods because there would be no way to get them open. All cookies, candy, chips and other junk food were also out. As far as I was concerned if I was going to pay for it would be something nutritious. It was to cold for ice cream and obviously any frozen food would be pointless without some way to heat it up. There was no way I was going to buy him beer, wine or any other alcoholic beverage. I could not believe that it was this hard to buy food for some bum in my neighborhood. Were the choices really this limited?
I continued to look. My search now covering the entire store. I did not want to get fruit or vegetables, because strangely to me, that might seem like an insult. Cereal was not going to work without bowls and utensils. I could buy packages of cheese, bologna and some bread, but this was just to big of a production to bring outside and then try to make sandwiches on the sidewalk. So what then? There had to be something appropriate.
Over a half an hour of searching later I finally found it. In a display case by the deli section was the obvious choice. “Hot and Ready To Eat” the sign proclaimed. Now we were talking. No one could be upset with a full cooked chicken. This was perfect. Easily more then enough for one person, the chicken would satisfy any hunger, no matter how great. I grabbed some napkins and plastic silverware from the salad bar and it was feast time! I almost ran to the check out counter.
It was amazing how good it felt to help another person for no other reason except it was the right thing to do. I’m not sure if it was the recently grilled poultry in the bag in my arms, but I felt a warmth spreading inside me that I had never felt before. It felt good, real good. Nearing the front doors I pulled the chicken container out of my bag. I held it up in front of me like I was about to give my girlfriend a present Tiffany’s. I could not wait to see the smile on his face when I gave him the warm food.
Through the automatic doors I went. My smile stretched from ear to ear. I might even introduce myself with a firm handshake and brief moments of mindless conversation. Here was my chance to think of someone other then myself for once.
But as I strode through the doors into the cold evening air I realized to my dismay…the man was gone.
Articles - Morality Is Bipartisan
