I began to realize that some people were obvious scam artists. One man was desperate for gas money to get to Beaverton because his wife was having a baby. He made the mistake of approaching me in successive weeks with the same story. One thin woman was dubbed "Heroin Lady." She was famous for being seen on her non-panhandling days. On these days, she carried a handbag and dressed normally (it was on her begging days that she dressed the part of a destitute woman on the streets). The paper ran a story where they had a reporter beg for money at an intersection -- they earned as much as $400 a day.
Over time, I developed a hard rule to never, ever give money to people on the streets. I reasoned that it would be better to donate to groups that helped homeless people. Otherwise I had no idea where the money was going to: alcohol, drugs, etc.
I stuck with this rule for many, many years. But then, something changed. As I was getting into my car, a homeless man approached me. As he began to ask for money, I was ready for my pat "Sorry, no" response when something stopped me. He told me that he was hungry. Somehow he struck me as being completely sincere. For the first time in years, I looked a homeless person in the eyes and something touched me.
I broke my rule and rummaged through my purse and gave him several dollars worth of change. He was very thankful and shook my hand and as he walked away, I wished that I had given him more.
Over the next few days, I told that story to several different people. Each time, I surprised myself by becoming emotional and tearing up.
I realize now why this story affected me so much: I believed this man when he told me that he was hungry.
A man was hungry and asked me for help and I told him "no."
Over the many years of my hard and fast rule, many people have asked me for help and I turned them down.
I felt like the villain in a Victorian novel.
With every "no" a thin layer of varnish coated my soul, helping me to live with that decision.
But somehow, one man managed to pierce through that hardened shell. and I understood that all that denial had not been good for my soul.
Over lunch with my friend, Shawn, I pondered this problem with her: I wanted to help people that were in genuine need, but how could I? How could I tell the scam artists apart from the real people who were truly down on their luck and needed something to eat?
Shawn suggested a solution that a friend of hers came up with: she filled bags with healthy, non-perishable food in them. When someone asked her for money, she would offer them the bag. Sometimes it was easy to tell from the reaction that the person was just trying to scam her. And sometimes her offering was accepted with real gratitude.
Excited with the concept, I made up my first bag that very weekend.
Monday morning, it went into my car.
By Tuesday afternoon, as I got in to drive myself home, I was already getting discouraged. When would I ever encounter someone in my car to whom it would be convenient to hand a bag? That stupid bag would sit right there, cluttering up my car for months...
Ten seconds later, I saw him: a man in his twenties with a dog and a sign that said "Anything helps."
Half expecting him to reject my crumpled up paper bag, I slowed down, rolled down the window and asked if you would like something to eat. The relief in his face as he accepted my offering was palpable.
As I pulled away, happy happy happy, I could see him eagerly looking into the bag.
Being me, I naturally instantly regretted not having more in there (it contained an apple, some dried mango, a baggie of almonds and some granola bars) -- it was really just a good snack.
And there was nothing in it for the dog.
That night, I raided the store for more food for bigger and better homeless helpers. I'm thinking that I can get some gift cards for fast food.
Next time, I'll even have a can of dog food ready as well.
