“Do you have any change you could spare?” The question greets me almost every day as I depart work. The implication is powerful—much more so than a simple “homeless, need help” sign—I have enough money that I can afford to spare a dollar or two. At first glance there’s nothing surprising about that; plenty of people have money to spare. But there’s the corollary: plenty of people don’t.The questioner sat there in his wheelchair, looking at me as I came closer. Usually I would be in the midst of a crowd of people, suit-clad men and women immersed in the rat race. But today was different; I left the office late and there was no one to hide behind as I walked by my inquisitor.
“Do you have any change you could spare?” He always says it in a particular lilt, never changing, emphasizing the ‘could’. I looked down as I approached, unable to meet his eye. Then he said something else, suddenly, unexpectedly: “Man, you look sad.”
It caught me off guard and I looked up at him. Before I had time to think, the answer came out. “Of course I look sad, you’re out here every day.” His answer was simple: “It’s where I’m supposed to be.”
I stopped and took a good look at him as I pulled out my wallet. I had never done that before. One eye was vacant, clearly blind, but the other stared piercingly at me. His hands sat in his lap, one holding a cup for change.
In my wallet was a receipt and two bills: a five and a one. My first instinct was to reach for the one, but something stopped me. Do I have any change to spare? Yes I do. I’m not exactly rich, and there’s plenty of things that I want but can’t afford, but the unmistakable fact of the matter is that I have change to spare.
I proffered the five to him, “Will that help?”
“Yeah, that’ll help.” He paused. “A lot.” I looked at him and smiled slightly, sadly. Then I turned and went on my way home.
Next time I’ll ask his name.
Good post. Good life experience.
We recently visited our son and his family who live in Africa. They are constantly assailed by beggars. He seems to have thought through the idea carefully and does this: he keeps his car ashtray and his pocket full of small bills (which in that country equal about 8 cents each, which is maybe “equivalent” to one of our dollars) and he always gives them to disabled beggars but not to those young and healthy. And especially never to young mothers with a baby at the breast. Instead he gives them a lecture (in English, which they likely don’t understand) saying, “you are young and healthy. You should make injera and sell it on the street. Everyone eats ingera.”