Daniel,
On my turn into work.
Every day, driving to work, I take the same exit in. And most every day, I see someone standing next to the light, holding a sign.
Sometimes, it’ll be a woman, most of the time men. The signs, scrawled with the usual.
“Homeless, hungry. Anything will help”
“Need bus fare to get back to my family”
“Retired Vet down on his luck”
“I’ll be honest, I just need money for weed”
That last guy got money from every car in front of me, and would’ve from me, if I had any to give.
When I was a teenager, I saw a report on people who pose as homeless for a living. According to the report in 2006, someone could make roughly 50k a year, tax free. How that amount has changed today, I don’t know, but it can’t have gotten too much lower, in fact, I imagine its gone up.
That 6 minute segment has jaded me more than any other newscast has since. Now, most every time I see a homeless person, I can’t help but wonder if they’re actually in distress, or quite simply, if they’re faking.
On the occasion that its obvious this person is in dire need of some help, I do my best to help. A hot meal, a cup of coffee, whatever spare paper money I am surprised to find in my wallet. I always have and always will because these people are living one of my greatest fears.
It would be bad enough if I, a 20-something ended up on the streets, but even worse would be me, as a real-life grown up. Maybe a have a partner, maybe some kids. Even a dog. What would you not do to provide for those who are put in your charge? Steal? Lie? Hurt someone else? I’m scared for what I would do if in that position, so I’d like to think a warm drink helps them and myself.
More often than not, on my drive into work, on that corner where I turn, someone holds a sign. And more often than not, a little less than half the time, I recognize the man. I don’t know him from my life, but I see him enough that he is a part of it. I don’t know his name, and I have never asked, but I call him Daniel.
Tall, brown hair, and a wide smile. Deep eyes, and tanned skin that in the sun, is hard to tell whether this is his skin tone, or he’s unwashed. He holds a cardboard sign in his right hand, and opens a wide, thick paw into wave with the other.
Daniel’s sign changes pretty much every time I see him. Some days he needs bus fare, some days he ‘God bless’s, sometimes he cares for his family. For this reason, I've come to be fairly certain that Daniel does this for work.
He waves, and I wave back. I take my turn, and for a few fleeting moments, I wonder. What if Daniel really needs my help? What if, however unlikely, all of his sings are true. What is Daniel has three girls, a wife, and a retired Veteran brother who he needs bus fare to get to?
And lastly, even if Daniel makes 42k a year, and lives alone with his dog, what truly keeps me from giving him one of my Nature Valley nutty crunchy bars?
It’s been two weeks since I’ve seen Daniel. People still hold his post, but his wide grin is missing. I wonder where he is. I wonder if he finally got that bus fare. I hope his brother is okay, as are his girls, and his dog, and his wife.
If I do see him again, I should like to talk to him. Buy him a meal, whether or not he needs it. I would very much like to see him again.
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