The first time I saw
him he sat still like a mendicant in dusty black clothes with his back pasted
against a red brick wall. It was late autumn and the receding sun lit up his
dark black skin and gorgeous features. His eyes were bright and looked like two
lamps set sailing in dark waters. He did not have his baseball cap out begging
for small change nor did he call out to people walking by, he was not needy
even if he was in need and maybe it was this quality in him that drew me. I
reached out for a dollar bill and handed it out which he accepted slowly and
said, "God bless you!”
Ever since that
unexpected introduction it has been a tradition of mine to remember to hand my
change to him and receive his blessing.
For the longest time
he didn't seem to notice, he didn't seem to recall, he didn't seem to recognize
and I simply assumed that he could not. There were those days that his
desperation had reached its peaks, when he yelled out like an animal in pain,
he begged like a soul barred of humiliation, he cried out like a new born
knowing no shame and even on those rare days he blessed whole heartedly those
that emptied their tights palms and fed him with what ever it was that he
needed most.
On one evening after a long and tiring day, I
rushed to the train station to get back home. My mind was too preoccupied with
this particularly difficult instructor whose class I had signed up for and our
silent hostility towards each other. All of my hard, devoted and undying effort
in her class had been undermined once again and my heart was heavy while my
mind danced with doubts of my capabilities. As usual I identified him, my
homeless friend, at a distance. I pulled out my pocket change and handed it to
him. He was loud when he said, "That's my baby girl, God bless you my
baby!” Then I heard him chant, "That's my baby girl", until I did not
disappear onto a different street! My mood changed instantly, I forgot all
about the difficult instructor and now I had a new bond with another unknown
human being.
Our relationship
matured and this acknowledgement given and received was constant, though on
days it was not clear who the giver was and who the receiver.
It was a particularly
cold winter afternoon. I was worked to the bone and my depression had set in
quiet thickly. My footsteps were heavy and my enthusiasm was dwindling as well.
Close to exhaustion I stepped out of the train, dragging my feet and walked
slowly towards school. The class with the sour instructor made me exhausted, I
had no more psychic energy to dole out to our unspoken battle and I was war
weary. The weather was brutal and I could not fathom how he withstood it, sitting
out there in the open and protected only by the kindness of strangers. He sat
bundled in old clothes and comforters his baseball cap laid out before him, he
was cold and in visible discomfort. The golden one Dollar coin that I tossed
into his cap, sunk low and the pennies that were already in there quickly
covered it. "What? Did you give me a penny, go fuck yourself!" he
yelled out.
I am sure there are
many who have wanted to tell me that but hearing it out aloud, said to my face,
on the street, and the sheer irony of it made me of all things buckle down with
laughter. My depression peeled away instantly and I laughed the laughter of a
lunatic all the way to school. I had somehow stopped taking myself seriously
and on that fateful day, the nasty instructor was just another human with bad
taste. She lost her power over me and I regained my sense of humor.
After a long summer, I
saw him back in his corner for the first time today. He looked crisp in his new
haircut. Today he said, "thank you beautiful! God bless you!" and put
a smile on my face. I don't even know his name!!! Over the years my judgment
has dropped off of me, I have set down that heavy sack and now I walk more
leisurely!
