Who Are the Street People, Anyway?
We see them all around us. They are in parking lots with their signs, "Will Work For Food" or "Please Help, Even a Smile Will Do" or other innovative ways to advertise that they are seeking a money donation. Some do not have signs but approach you as you walk to and from a store, some asking for extra change, some with specific reasons they are seeking money from strangers. Are these people legit, or are they scammers?
Once I was accosted by a young man in a wheelchair. I had seen him in the parking lot of my local grocery when I drove in and parked. Before going inside to shop, I made a mental note to myself to watch for him when I drove from the store, as something just told me that he might try to get behind my car and cause me to back into him so that he could sue me.
I completed my shopping and scanned the parking lot for "wheelchair man" before heading for my car. I didn't see him and loaded and closed my trunk. I walked to the side of my car to get in, and the man in the wheelchair had somehow managed to position himself directly in front of the door on the driver's side of my car. Holy Moley, I thought to myself, what now?
The young man assured me that he was harmless, just badly in need of a drink. He launched into a sob story about how he had arrived in town and fallen out of a third story hotel window on his first night here. He was, he said, currently staying with a Christian couple who wouldn't let him drink alcohol. He had no money, but really needed that drink. Would I go in and buy him a bottle of booze? I looked like such a nice lady, wouldn't I help him?
I advised him that I would not buy him alcohol, but if he was hungry, I would be glad to go back into the store and buy him a sandwich. He continued to tell me just how desperate and needy he was, trying to get on his feet, but he had a run of bad luck and just needed to drink away some of his troubles. I continued to tell him that drinking wouldn't accomplish anything and even ventured to tell him that he was very lucky compared to some, that he was young, that he was not permanently injured, and finally even added that I, myself, was a two-time cancer survivor, my point being that we do get past seemingly insurmountable obstacles in our lives. Nothing I said mattered, and he continued to try to convince me to buy him that bottle. I continued to tell him no and asked if I could please get into my car. We were at a standstill. I was afraid to try to move his wheelchair out of the way in case he was really not injured and strong as a ox. I also considered going around to the passenger side, but I knew that as I fumbled to unlock the door, if he was faking his injury, he could probably get around fast enough to stop me. . .and truly, I didn't want any trouble, just wanted to leave.
It was beginning to get dark. It was still light out when I first loaded my groceries into the car, and my apprehension of being semi-alone in a dark parking lot with a man who may or may not be as injured as he claimed began to grow. Then, thankfully, police cruiser came on the scene, and the cop came directly over to us. Apparently a clerk had seen us arguing and called. I could finally leave. However, the policeman would not let me drive away until I provided him with my own name and address. I cooperated; what else could I do? A couple of days later, I received a summons in the mail calling me as a witness against the young man. Apparently, he had pulled this routine on others many times. I did not want to go to court. I did not wish to make enemies. I lucked out; the hearing was cancelled and I did not have to appear.
Another time, during Christmas season, I pulled into a store parking lot. As I drove in, I noticed this young man wearing the type of sweater you often see around the holidays running around. He appeared to be looking for his car, and I did not give him another thought. However, when I stepped out of my car, there he was right in front of me. "I'm not going to hurt you," he told me, "I just need some change." I immediately jumped back and emptied all the change from my wallet and gave it to him.
When I went inside the store, I got worried about walking back to my car, as it was dark outside, and I figured he was probably still out there. I also thought about how when I emptied my wallet, my credit cards were visible to the man. As the clerk rang up my purchases, I asked if she could have the store manager walk out to my car with me. When we stepped out of the store, there were some policemen talking to the "sweater guy" I had given change to. There was a couple walking out of the store directly in front of me, and they hollered to the guy, "It wasn't us, honest." I suppose he thought it was me. I stayed away from that store and especially that parking lot for several months.
Then there was the young man who hollered at folks from the Kmart parking lot that he was trying to get to a town about 50 miles away, asking if you could spare a dollar. There were other young people around him that appeared to be his friends. None looked especially poor or hungry, dressed decently and in pretty good spirits, kind of like they were just "hanging out." I just shook my head at him as I walked to the store. About a month later, I saw this young man again in the same parking lot doing the same thing, telling the same story. I figured this must be routine for him and that he did this in several places, making the rounds until he came back to where I had first seen him.
While I believe that there are people who really need some help, I'm pretty sure that there are also scammers. One night as I was driving home from work, I saw this man with his "Will Work for Food" sign sitting at a gas station. A girl pulled into the station, got out of her car, walked over to him and handed him a bag of fast food items. It appeared that she had seen him, went and bought the food and brought it to him. I watched as he thanked her, and as she walked back to her car, he set the bag aside and put his sign back in place. Apparently he wasn't that hungry.
I have always said that the difference between most of us and the homeless is a paycheck, and that a lot of us live very close to the edge. I have often tried to imagine being a woman and homeless. It is a dangerous way to life, even for a man, yet our town has its share of homeless women as well. I remember a particular shopping cart lady that people called "Courthouse Mary." She used to take a nap on the steps of the building where I worked downtown not far from the courthouse, usually around midmorning. She used the courthouse restrooms to clean herself up, and would also wash out some of her clothes there as well. When she sat on our steps, she usually had her three pairs of granny panties, pink, blue, and white drying on the edge of her shopping cart. "Mary" never asked me for money, nor anyone else that I ever saw. The clothes she wore looked fairly new and in good shape, and she sported walking shoes that appeared to be on the newer side. Sometimes I would see her sitting at one of the lunch restaurants the downtown workers frequented, eating the sandwich and drinking the cold drink she apparently treated herself to. The scuttlebutt about "Mary" was that she had some income, but she preferred street life.
One morning, later than usual, "Mary" sat herself down on the steps of the building in which I worked. This time she had a bottle of Vodka, a can of beer and a jar of olives. She would take a drink of Vodka, then a drink of beer and top it off with an olive. Some of us were kind of getting a kick out of her little drinking routine. My office was a division of the District Attorney's, and we had badge wearing, gun toting investigators who worked there. One of the investigators didn't find "Mary's" little drinking spree as entertaining as the rest of us, and he went out and told her she had to leave. She had just lain down for a nap when he appeared. When he opened the door, he hit her in the small of the back with it. It appeared to me that he did it on purpose, to get her attention. It was a heavy glass door and must have hurt. She put up an argument with him and told him that she had been walking around all night and just wanted to rest a little. He grabbed her bottle of Vodka and advised her that she could only have it back if she left the premises. When she agreed to move, the investigator gave her back her bottle. The rest of us looked on at him in disgust. She really wasn't hurting anyone. After that, I didn't see much of "Mary" anymore, and one day heard that a relative of hers got a conservatorship to control her money and how she spent it and got her off the street.
A few months ago, I was at a gas station, pumping gas. An older woman came over to where I was and talked to me the entire time I was filling my car. She said that she had had cancer surgery and that she needed adult diapers. She told me that the lady inside the gas station store was mean and wouldn't let her get ice there, so that's why she didn't mind panhandling at her station. She grumbled something about "take away my eight hundred dollars, will ya," so I deducted that she probably had some income, but not enough to provide for all her needs or to last her though the month. She told me that any change I could give her would help. As I was putting the gas cap back on my car, I told her I would give her all the change I had, but it wasn't much. She said that was fine, that she had collected some money already and would add what I could give her to that and would soon be able to buy her diapers. "I just have to pee," she told me.
A few days ago, our local newspaper did a story about the homeless, and people began to post their comments on the on line forum the paper provides. Someone mentioned a lady in the Kmart parking lot telling her she needed adult diapers and that she went in and bought them for her. I responded to her post that I thought I had met that same lady and shared my story.
More discussion of this homeless lady came up on the forum, and I decided to try to find her in the area that the other poster and I had both seen her in and give her a little "care package" of sorts. My initial quest to help her started out small. I went to the Dollar Tree and bought a toothbrush and toothpaste, some deodorant, a bar of soap, some chemical hand wipes, a bottle of hand sanitizer, some shampoo, a couple of tuna salad and cracker packages, a couple of cans of Vienna Sausages, and a package of Slim Jim Sausages, thinking to keep it light, that she probably carried everything she owned around with her. I drove around after making my purchases to see if I could find her. I had bought a little cloth bag at the Dollar Tree and put her items in it, thinking that perhaps it wouldn't be too cumbersome for her to manage as she walked around like I figured homeless people do. I didn't find her that day and went home disappointed.
I reported my unsuccessful venture in the local forum, where homeless people and their plight was still being discussed. Another lady posted stating that she knew this lady, that her name is Barbara AKA the cat lady. She advised that Barbara is 65 years old, had indeed had cancer surgery and did use adult diapers. She said that Barbara appeared to be so undernourished that she looked like a concentration camp victim, probably weighing 89 pounds. She told me that Barbara had caught many of the feral cats that lived under a local well known bridge and had them spayed and neutered, adding that, "Bless her heart; she does what she can." Barbara, she said, lived behind Raleys where the cement pads are, and that she had invited her to sit out on the "patio" with her, which she had made as comfortable for herself as she could out of discarded items from the dumpsters behind Raleys and the other stores, and had decorated with some pretty plants. She advised that if anyone wanted to "visit" Barbara, to provide items that might help her, to call her name first, as she had two dogs that stayed with her.
Now that there was a whereabouts of sorts where I might locate Barbara and knew her name, I added some more items to my "care package" for her, as it seemed like she at least called a certain area "home." I went to Kmart, where she was known to patrol the parking lot, and I purchased some adult diapers for women, a bottle of one a day vitamins for older women, a sweater and matching gloves (the store was practically giving them away), a box of small individual juice cartons, and added a used sweatshirt and thermal vest I had that I hoped would help her.
Then I got in my car and drove around the area I figured she would be walking. When I got to Raleys, I drove behind it like the lady on the forum said and tried to find her. I found the cement area as described but did not see a woman. The cement area was actually quite a distance from the alley behind the Raleys shopping center, and could also be reached by a whole different street. I drove behind and talked to two homeless men, or I should say one, who told me he didn't know her and the other just looked at me like I had lost my mind. I decided against walking back to where she probably was when I saw several men back there. I'm sure they were probably harmless if she was able to exist in their world, but always better to be safe than sorry.
I went back to the alley way behind Raleys. There were some other businesses behind there, and one was an animal clinic. Since I knew that she was capturing feral cats and taking them there for neutering, I figured that this was probably as good a place as any to find out how I could get my gifts to her.
Sure enough, the lady inside knew Barbara, and she knew her well. Yes, Barbara came there to buy her dog food, as well as bringing in cats to be neutered. Yes, she did have some income, but according to the lady, she had been living the homeless life for 25 years. The lady said that she and others had tried to help her with housing, but that there was always something she didn't like about the places they tried to set her up in. . .the yard was too small or some other problem. For whatever reason, she seemed to prefer living the way she did.
I told the lady that I had some things I wanted to give Barbara and asked if she knew how I might do this. The lady said that right outside the clinic was a small storage area where I could leave her things. I questioned if they might be stolen there even though they were out of sight of anyone just happening by, and she said that was a pickup place for Barbara, that they left her dog food there, and people often left food for her there. So, I left my four packages. I included a little note stating that I had heard about her plight through the local newspaper comment forum and signed it "Buddy," which is part of my on line screen name.
I have decided that I am going to make Barbara my own little charity and leave her a package now and then. This is my own little secret. I have not even told my husband, as he disapproves of street people and never gives them any money. He thinks they are all scammers. Yes, there are some scammers. And yes, what people say about homeless people choosing this lifestyle can obviously be true, but sometimes, there are people who really do need a little help, no matter what kind of life they have chosen. I am reminded of the little boy who was tossing starfish back into the sea. He was told by an observer that thousands wash up in the tide and that what he was doing wasn't going to make a difference. The boy replied as he tossed another starfish into the sea, "It makes a difference for this one."