David

Today is a "feel good about myself because I'm doing good things that make me look [from outside appearances] like a 'good person'" day. (please read that and the next few sentences tongue-in-cheek, with a hint of egotistical truth) Driving home from donating blood (because I'm a good person), I saw a panhandler across the intersection just as I was turning onto the freeway entrance ramp, and felt the Spirit nudging me to do something about it (because I'm a holy person). Using my GPS I went out of my way to backtrack and finally parked, grabbed a "homeless bag" of goodies (I really really need to rename those) and walked up to him.

David and I shook hands and talked for... maybe 15-20 minutes? It wasn't very long, but long enough for my ears to turn red (sorry Mom, I forgot to wear my hat), and my body to start shivering. As my friends know, I don't really wear coats, so I typically find myself ill-prepared for standing in sub-freezing temps for any length of time longer than it takes to walk from my car to a building. Anyway, I asked David to share his story. He started, then stopped abruptly and asked "you don't have a camera on you, do you?" I assured him I did not. (And funny aside: I actually forgot my voice recorder at home this morning, so I couldn't have been recording even if I'd wanted to!)

David is part (or wholly?) Native American, and grew up in "nord'east" Minneapolis, and in fact his parents still live here. I'm guessing he's mid-forties. He told me the reason he signs at this particular corner is because, for him, it's a memorial site, sacred ground. He had another friend experiencing homelessness who died last October, near this corner - the cops found him alcohol'd to death under a van in a parking lot, probably he crawled under there to stay out of the rain. David put a small bracelet on the fencepost at this corner as his own memorial.

I never blogged about it, but back in December I joined my friends JD and John to observe the Homeless Memorial March put on by Simpson House, a march down Nicollet Avenue in downtown Minneapolis, during rush hour, to remember those who passed away this past year either while experiencing homelessness, or who had experienced it in the past. When David told me about his friend, I wondered if I'd heard his name read at the memorial service. (If you're interested in joining next year, here is more information about the March, scheduled for December 17, 2015).

I digress. David told me he just checked out of rehab (meth) this morning, and is staying on a buddy's couch for the next few days, and planning to move to Albuquerque in early March. "Good!" I said. "Get out of this cold!!" He told me about a typical day signing (this was a new vocab word for me - when you see someone on the side of the road holding a sign, they call that "signing". I hadn't known. It sounds much nicer than pan-handling, or, begging), shared some funny stories about *good* encounters with police officers, about how much he makes in a day (today so far, after 4 hours: $13. Other days, like Christmas, $170 in three hours), and about witnessing multi-car accidents on the freeway on some of the icier days. Oh, and something I found fascinating: he said when he's signing and there are several beggars there, they'll take turns, like swap out every half hour, to be fair with each other... and so they don't get into a fight :/

He told me about his friends and their tent city, and that they keep each other safe by sticking together at night. He told me his parents are giving him the "tough love" right now, and that's part of why he's moving to New Mexico. (aside: having read the book "Boundaries", if I knew more about his history and his parents, I might actually/probably side with them, but, that didn't need to affect our interaction for today). And he told me about his bouts with frostbite.

We talked briefly about faith - I'd mentioned it was a "God thing" that I'd stopped, and he agreed about how "God works in mysterious ways." David had grown up Catholic, and I'm Lutheran (albeit in recent years moreso Pentacostol-Lutheran, if such a thing can be labeled). I asked him if he was going to stay clean, now that he's out of rehab, and he said of the drugs, yes, of the liquor no. I confessed to him "man, if I were in your shoes, I'd be drinking, too."

Eventually I left. I got to leave homelessness behind, get back into my nice, warm, too-expensive car, and drive back to my house, to be warmed by my new furnace. For now I choose not to feel guilt over this, but I will at least acknowledge my privilege that I get to walk away from homelessness, and hunger.

For me, interacting with David was much less awkward than talking with Gary, mostly because David didn't have the physical limitations/issues that Gary does (by the way, no new updates from Gary, part 4, yet:(. And in fact, talking with David didn't seem weird. I mean, granted, it's not like he's my best friend and I'm going to open all my darkest secrets to him, but, he was honest. Every beggar I've ever talked to (Matt, Gary, and others just for a few seconds with my window rolled down waiting for the light to turn green) has always been incredibly straightforward when I've asked them "what's your story?" I suspect when your dignity gets beaten down that far, there's very little you care about hiding anymore.

Now, if I were in your mind, Reader, I'd be asking me, "Why? It's one thing to give a beggar a dollar, or even a bag with water bottle and cereal bars, but, why, when it's freezing outside, would you park, and strike up a conversation?"

If you've read many of my previous posts, you already know that to answer those questions, I'm going to re-quote Beggars in Spain, which has been the most influential book in my life, second only to the Gospels:

What the strong owe beggars is to ask each one why he is a beggar and act accordingly. Because community is the assumption, not the result. And only by giving non-productiveness the same individuality as excellence, and acting accordingly, does one fulfill the obligation to the beggars in Spain.