Many of us have that discount store just a couple of neighborhoods
our of our way, that maintains those particular household products we need at
just the right price. I made the periodic
pilgrimage over to mine a few days ago.
About twenty minutes away on the train, but worth it every time. Even in winter slush.
It’s a couple of zip codes south of my own. I used to live nearer to that province, but
since that time it became a little more barren and dangerous. Even the well-populated urban area I veered into
where the store lives is generally more crime-heavy, the socio-economic status
is lower, and since I’m not a socio-economist, I’m not going to define anything
with the term “ghetto”, since I don’t scientifically know what qualifies as
that. I’d imagine the real-estate
brokers representing the area are doing just fine.
But as I dashed into the store, down the aisle, a young
man with a charming little bundled-up girl of about six or seven suddenly
turned to me, while his daughter studied some coloring book on the shelf, and asked
me very politely if I had a dollar to help him and his daughter. Somewhat unready for this confrontation, I just
as politely shrugged and walked away.
But within a moment, I resolved to respond. I’d furtively whip out a buck and find him before
I left. I did just that, quietly, and
said to the fellow….here…if this helps.
He took it graciously, and said back ‘’I appreciate you”. I nodded silently, and not to be maudlin, I
did not respond my thought: “I admire you”.
The display I witnessed was bravery. Not on
the Ron Howard-drama Hollywood trailer level, with the swells of John Williams
orchestration and me played by a middle-aged Tom Hanks. Rather a more silent, grim, black-&-white
Frederick Wiseman documentary kind of scene, a very real and undirected
depiction.
Before I cite the solicitor in the story a Grand American
Hero (or his endowing one-dollar benefactor, for that matter..), I’ll disclaim
the above account with the lack of knowledge I had about that somewhat haggard
looking young man with the innocent little girl. For all I know, the guy could be on the lam
from the Feds, crossing state lines with the daughter he kidnapped from the
custody of his ex-girlfriend. The possibilities
are endless. Especially if you watch
online documentaries and Netflix crime dramas, which I don’t. But at the same time, this obviously
destitute fellow was not afraid to make his plea within the confines of a busy
store, where any creeped-out patron might react by calling security and having
this guy hauled off and interrogated by Child Protective Services. I didn’t.
I respected his plight and responded like a person. Doing so within store
confines appeared safe enough. After the
fact, my whole day had me wondering, just what could that one-hundred cents
have done for him…? Even in that store you couldn’t get anything for less than
a few bucks. Anywhere else the dollar is practically worth less than a bottle
cap. The man must know how to make every
single cent work. I thought I was pretty
good with that, but this guy must be one of the experts.
He’d have to be, with a small daughter in tow. And the fact is, you don’t have to read too
many papers today to recognize that the very sort of encounter I faced that
morning is actually one talking place in food and discount stores all across
America. You won’t encounter it in the
Food Emporium on 86th off Lexington.
But you very likely might in a Dollar General upstate or anywhere outside
the “One Percent” galaxy. That galaxy is
getting smaller, even if some of us less than eligible are relegated to living
just a little too close to it.
There are more personal accounts in human interest stories,
of moms of all ages shopping with their children, as the kids mull over some
cereals in the aisle and the mom quietly approaches the kindest looking
stranger for a few dollars help. These are single-mom families with homes and a
car, but barely any money to shop, barely any medical coverage or care, and a
recurring dice roll over scrounging up the monthly rent or car payment.
If social media and all its sharing force is any kind of
indication or adhesive element in this isolated culture of ours, is it possible
that a new paradigm in acceptable human interaction could be
establishing..? The Act of Giving.
Of course, many will still define it unpleasantly as the Crime
Of Soliciting. As I see it, it’s a very
delicate act, to be cultivated as such. It’s
contingent upon the when and where. Any
sales expert will tell you that. In an
environment like the NYC subway, generally you don’t stand a chance as any kind
of a panhandler. The street, same
thing. Outdoors is just too menacing an
environment for that, especially at night. Within the confines of a civilized
environment, like a general store or supermarket, it’s a different story. The
approach of a young, tired-looking woman nearing tears, with a wagon surrounded
by four little ones a yard away bears an entirely different framework, one more
sympathetic. And often one that will
yield some wallet or purse help from the solicited. It doesn’t resolve or cure that mom’s life or
her plight. But it gets her and her
children far enough through that day to see the next one. They’d certainly live anyway. But a direct
contribution from Patrons Like You, as the perpetually solicitous PBS would put
it, helps that mom and her children live just a little better. If their day can foreseeably draw to a close just
a little bit more as predictably as yours, then you’ve made a difference.
And more people are doing just that. More bravery, more sympathy. The dirge of panhandling by some designs is
soon to be replaced by the trend of Applied Giving. Not to some charity can or jar at the counter,
but to the direct solicitor, who makes his or her case effectively, to the
patron of hoped sympathy, and broadness of mind. It was the late author Barbara Ehrenreich in
her immortal diatribe Nickel and Dimed, who, at story’s end, made the
bold suggestion that to move our society into one that turns toward, and not away
from one another, is liable to make our world a better place to live in. In
fact, it just might be this society’s best shot at remaining one.
Noah F.
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