on the edge

The grass is always greener in someone else's pasture, isn't it? Though my needs are fulfilled, I'm not immune to want (as evidenced by my list below). However, living in Beall's Hill has made me hyper-conscious of the excess, perceived and real, in my life. Those who have been reading here for awhile know that my neighborhood has a number of issues: poverty, homelessness, and addiction to name a few.

While my in-laws were in town we engaged in a lot of conversation about politics, class, and education, both at the local and national level. It's not uncommon for people to come around my house looking for work or money, and naturally our parents are always interested in how we respond. Not surprisingly with an increase in food and gasoline prices, we have witnessed more desperation in and around our corner of Macon.

Lynne was relating a story about vagrants in Indy that wear signs will work for food, but for whom money, not food, is the actual goal. We went on to discuss the value, mostly negative, of giving money to street people. From the moment we moved in here we made it a policy never to give money or to hire people from the neighborhood (though we've relaxed a bit about the latter and have been pleased with most of the workers we've employed).

Not long after that conversation I had an interaction with one of our homeless men. I was out watering our planters, and I heard a man say "Good Evening" to me. I'm always hesitant when engaging one of our physically, emotionally or financially impaired neighbors, so I tentatively replied, "Yes?"

"I so hungry. I haven't had a thing to eat today. I so hungry. I don't think I can go on."

The man sat down on the curb by our van and muttered again, "I so hungry."

"Hold on a minute, okay?"

I went inside to the kitchen and made him a sandwich. While we don't give out money, we do give food. If someone comes to the door looking for work that we don't have and then begs for food, I always give them a little something. I walked out to the curb and handed the man a sandwich.

"Thank you so much. Bless you. Bless you. Thank you so much."

And he got up and walked away. I went back into the house and sat down with Dan and Lynne. I told them then that I too have had interactions with people when money is the clear prize, but more often than not, here in Beall's Hill, a sandwich is what someone really wants when they're hungry.

I've stopped questioning whether the man we hired to help around the yard buys crack instead of groceries with his pay. Who am I to judge what gets him through. Don't be horrified. I don't want my money to buy someone liquor or a hit, but what do I know about living in their shoes. Pretty much nothing. I certainly don't know what it's like to be hungry.