Begging with love
An accidental grace on the Fremont Street offramp
There’s a homeless couple that begs where my morning offramp dumps into San Francisco. They’re tidy and not young, but maybe a little younger than I assume no thanks to sun and wind and the daily scraping of the city against their skin.
They hold a simple sign; I can’t remember what it says — nothing clever or demanding, just a few black words on an unfolded box asking for the help a stream of commuters might give in one of the world’s wealthiest cities: dollar bills or granola bars, or a five or ten on a great morning.
With some exception, SF workers ignore the homeless. The crush of human dismay on the streets each day — the tent villages and the makeshift doorway dorm rooms — makes us hard and selfish, and we tell ourselves all kinds of tales about how we give back without “feeding the problem.”
This pair of humans at the bottom of the ramp reminded me just how human they are with one tiny gesture. Just as I pulled past, the gentleman — gazing off beyond the snaking cars — leaned over just a few inches to gently, briefly kiss his partner on the forehead. She glanced up with a smile. The returned to the business of survival.
We are all people.
