The Parking Lot

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This entry has no TG elements in it. I really did not think that it qualified as a blog entry and it isn't fiction. It's just something that happened to me today and I couldn't get it out of my head.

The Parking Lot

The parking lot was practically empty when I pulled in. There was just the one car that was always there first. I figured that they either worked the graveyard shift or they started their day really early. Within ten minutes after I backed into my spot, about half a dozen other vehicles pulled in. A couple were for the light rail that came through about every quarter hour, the rest were for the various buses that came through. Most of them were for the bus I was waiting for.

Because the trains and buses were not due yet, everyone just sat in their cars. Which was normal. What wasn't normal was someone walking away from one end of the light rail station and going down the sidewalk.

At first, I thought that it was someone new to riding our bus that stopped at that spot and they weren't sure about the schedule. I wasn't too worried about them getting on the bus before me and taking my usual seat. We only had about ten people boarding here and I was pretty sure I would find a seat I liked anyway.

Then I realized that this was not a fellow commuter but a panhandler of some sort. He was about average height, maybe five six or seven. He was thin, but he didn't look like he was skin and bones. I couldn't tell in the light, but it looked like he hadn't shaved in a day or so. He was wearing trousers, but they didn't look like jeans or sweats. The long sleeved sweater he had on came down just far enough that it covered most of his hands.

What really called attention to him was how he walked and carried himself. He didn't shuffle his feet, but it didn't seem like he was picking his feet up to walk either. There was no way you could say that his shoulders were squared like a guy normally did. In fact, they were positively rounded and his arms just seemed to dangle. I knew that they were okay because I did see him move his hands and arms somewhat.

By just looking at him, he appeared to be someone doing his best to look harmless and non-threatening. I could almost get the sense of how much he must have been beaten down.

I was parked on the side of the lot away from him and no one had pulled in hear me yet. Everyone else was parked in closer so that they would have a shorter walk to their train or bus.

I watched him approach the SUV that had pulled in right after me and I assumed that he was asking her for something. He stayed at least six feet away from her vehicle and I could see that she must have said no. I thought that I could read the disappointment in his shoulders because I saw them droop even further than they already were. He moved to one of the cars that was several spots down from me. He again kept his distance as he asked. I didn't hear what was being said because my windows were up and my doors were locked. I wouldn't have been able to hear what was said anyway because he was too far away.

This guy somehow made me think of a dog that has been scolded and kicked over and over. When people refused to give him a handout, he didn't get angry, he just moved on to someone else.

I sat there in my brand-new SUV, at least it was new for me, and hoped that he wouldn't come over to me. I knew that I would give him a buck or two if he did. I sat there and hope that he wouldn't. In fact, I thought, 'God, please don't let him come over here.'

I watched him shuffle-walk back over to the light rail station and then my bus showed up. I didn't see him after that.

I've spent my entire day thinking about that guy. He probably was in his late teens or early twenties; I've never been good at guessing ages.

I would have given him something if he had asked, but he didn't. I've spent the entire day saying, 'God, I wish that he had asked me.'

* * * * *

My cold-hearted brain wouldn't let this go though. There was something about how he behaved and the entire social situation that demanded that I write it down.

I truly apologize for inflicting my angst on those of you who decided to read it.

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Comments

Sometimes we wonder...

We are in a day and age where we are among people, yet apart from them and often uncomfortable about someone coming into our space. Where is one to turn, if we were him?

Your warm heart cared about him and that was a wordless prayer.Hopefully some time during the day it was answered

Caring heart, Jessie

Jessica E. Connors

Jessica Connors

There Before The Grace of The Goddess Go I

It is a fine reminder of just how much many of us have. It has taken me years to get control of my empathic response to people who are honestly suffering but I had to to save my self so I can take care of my children. The hardest thing for me to reconcile is that many of these people haven't been able to do anything to help them selves. Some thing or some one has beaten them down so much they give up. The system of economics that rewards people who destroy our economy have also kicked many of these same people to the curb then sits on them preventing them from getting up.

We can only give them a smile or a quiet blessing. Because that's all we have, I want to donate money to help but our meager amount of money just keeps my family afloat. I need to say no to so many things my kids want when there school mates receive so much more. Your empathy shows that you are a good person you see them you acknowledge there suffering a lot of the time that is all we have to give.

Huggles

Michele

With those with open eyes the world reads like a book

celtgirl_0.gif

Fear

Sometime fear and the inner sense of being safe trumps helping other in need . Don't beat yourself up you didn't feel safe in your heart & mind . Better safe than being attacked .
I have a 31 YO living in my house because she was homeless so I know how you felt at the time but this is in my house where I feel safe with other around me
Happy you our safe to share your story :-) RICHIE2

One of the things

I like about this site is the occasional out-of-the-blue post like this one.

I typically do not donate to panhandlers that operate from a fixed location. A lot of them take in $30K or $40K a year - all cash so tax free but taxes on an income that small are already close to zero so that aspect really does not matter. And they do not sleep under an overpass.

I was a consultant in DC back in the mid 90s and some friends and I spoke with several panhandlers we passed on our way to and from lunch. Most are friendly and open about their "business" if you take the time to engage them in conversation.

But when I'm approached at random I take the time to assess the person as an individual. I am especially prone to help if they ask for something other than money. There is just something about such a request that feels more honest.

Still, I frequently wring my hands after a rejection. What if I misjudged them?

***

One of my favorite (non-sexual) fantasies is to give the Devil my soul in exchange for an end (from now on) to poverty, war, disease and so on.

Hello? Still no response ... kind of like cops I guess, the Devil is never there when you need her.

T