I went to church tonight — a test-run of a night service they’ll be doing soon. Afterwards, I walked The Street looking, once again, for a conversation or perhaps something more meaningful I’m unable to put into words. A couple of different benches felt the press of my jeans as I sat and watched the folks walk by. Late summer: the weather moderately warm, but slightly breezy with a mild hint of fall as the leaves begin looking tired of holding onto branches of trees.
As I walked down the street, I saw a homeless man sit down on the corner of a large, brick-lined flower-garden/walk. I went past him, walked ten feet to the left, and sat down to observe people and observe him. People walked by him, glanced at him, and ignored him while looking at fashionable clothes in a window. One couple, 40somethings with graying hair played upon by the lamplight, stopped by him. They handed him left-over garlic bread, he said thank you, and they walked away.
He sat back down and tilted his hat-covered head to watch his hands as he began unraveling the foil wrapped around his newly-arrived meal. He looked odd, but not out of place, wearing his hat with blue-feathers and eating somebody’s leftover bread.
I betrayed my own intentions and innocence as I pulled out my wallet and grabbed a green one before approaching the man and saying hello. I wanted so bad to be different from the rest, so I gave him a dollar.
“I hope this helps. Spend it on food or something that’ll help you out, ok?”
“That’s what I plan on doing.”
“I was just out here watching people.”
“That’s what I’m doing. We’re both out here doing that at the same time.”
“Yup.”
Another homeless man walked over to join in. In retrospect, I think he saw an opportunity to get money from me, but I don’t blame him for it.
I asked the first man what his name was.
“They call me the High Plains Drifter.”
“Cool.”
The second man made small talk with the man I’d already engaged with and mentioned how he hadn’t got more than fifty cents at the bench he was working. Once again, I betrayed my innocence, pulled out my wallet, and handed him a dollar.
The man with blue-feathers spoke and said, “This here’s a good kid… Santa would like a kid like you.” I stared at my shoes and mumbled something about “well, yeah, y’know.” I don’t really feel that giving two dollars to two men makes much difference in this here world. I only hope it does them some good.
I asked the second man his name. Henry. A few more short remarks were made, and then I said short goodbyes and walked away. I hope I see them again.
On the way back to my car, a man and a woman danced with balls of fire attached to chains. They danced in harmony with each-other; their love testified to by the brilliance of the flames encircling each other as they moved. The people watched, the people cheered, especially as the performers used their skills to encourage it. In the end, everyone had convinced themselves they’d wanted to cheer anyway, and many gave money to the buskers for the excellent show. I tossed in two dollars.
In all tonight, I spent four dollars on The Street. I enjoyed the entertainment as much as I did the brief conversation with two men living on leftovers and handouts from people feeling guilty or people just trying to help the best way they know how. In the end, the world hasn’t changed.
There are those who’ll watch and try what they can, but most will just ignore everything but the balls of flame catching their attention in the dusk before continuing to search for something they cannot find.
Categories: Life