Alms for the poor

"You're still kind of dopey," Rosa told me yesterday afternoon as we were sitting down at the shopping center.

"Well, dad gave me enough medication to anesthetize a horse," I replied.

"Did it feel good?" Rosa asked, always the consummate addict.

"It just knocked me out and I slept for sixteen hours straight," I said. "I feel like a new man this afternoon."

I and Rosa watched as one very grubby old man came walking up the sidewalk. He was stopping to ask shopping center patrons for spare change and was mostly being spurned. People would hurriedly walk past him without making eye contact as if he were a leper avoiding him at all costs.

"Who's this dude?" Rosa asked me.

"I don't know," I replied. "I have never seen him before."

He finally made his way to I and Rosa.

"Senor, my car is broken down and I need some money to buy a new battery," He said in a heavy Hispanic accent. "Can you spare some?"

I reached into my wallet and gave him a five dollar bill.

"Gracias senor," he said as he shook my hand profusely and then walked off.

"You are the biggest sucker," Rosa said. "He is just going to go drink with that money."

"It's not my place to judge," I said thinking of my own homeless days. "Besides, he looked like he needed a few drinks."

Rosa was angry with me for giving that old bum money, but I didn't care. I knew from my own homeless days that little comforts such as a beer or some smokes are what make life bearable. I gave the money unconditionally and it is not my place to judge. That is one of the biggest lessons my homelessness taught me.

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