A Certain Kindness
February 16, 2012 § 10 Comments
Each work morning lately I’ve taken to going to Au Bon Pain for coffee before work. For a week or two, I’ve noticed a “homeless” man. I don’t know if he literally is homeless, but he literally looks crazy. Wild, long untrimmed grey and white hair, including a beard. He is always in the same jeans, same shirt, same coat. So I deduce, being the veteran city girl I am, he is homeless. The talking and scowling at no one really hammers home the crazy.
A week ago, he noticed me. I think more accurately, he noticed me noticing him. Once he noticed me noticing him, he made it a point to notice me when I came in the coffee place. Again, the city girl in me notes this and notes also that it could be trouble. Because you see…
I give off a vibe. How does one describe this vibe? I don’t know, but this particular worm brings in a certain kind of fish. That’s what I’ve deduced so far. And didn’t this particular crazy come by at the right time, just in time to test my theory.
And test it he did.
Yesterday morning, the homeless man was standing two blocks down, staring at the train exit I depart from. I said nothing, but as I approached, eye contact became accidentally inevitable as he just stood there. Our eyes met briefly and I continued on to ABP. I thought to myself that it was weird he wasn’t in there with his usual coffee and orange juice that I’m pretty sure the manager gives him for free since the orange juice from ABP is like 5 bucks or something outrageous like that. But maybe I had missed his ABP time.
The next day, he is right at the tip of Valenti, where the painted brick sign for Canal St still haunts like a war time tattoo.
Fuck, I say to the morning air, knowing this time there will be words. I am incapable of not giving this person the respect of acknowledgement. He is standing in my path and we have seen each other before. He is already talking before I speak.
” Morning, morning…” He mumbles and his voice gets low and unintelligible.
“Good Morning.” I say simply and continue walking.
“Morning, Jesus is coming…”
The next day he is directly outside the coffee shop, telling the empty street; “Its been so many gathered…”
I can’t help but agree with him.
Love this. Miss the city. Miss you. Love the line “fuck, i say to the morning air,” definately felt that one. Brava.
I so love that my city is your city.
Love you.
We have that time to prove it.
Too many gathered… Exactly! Be careful with that kind of man because he doesn’t go easily, especially if you know who he really is.
Maybe you should buy him a cup coffee and see what happens. You never know he might turn out to be one of the crazy rich guys who walk the streets looking to surprise folk who show an interest in a supposedly homeless person!
Its funny you say that, I saw him this morning, he was seated in his usual area, but he was counting money. And they were twenty dollar bills!
So now I’m totally confused.
But also, I have a couple homeless friends already. I try to limit it, I get too emotionally involved. Some people don’t get it, homelessness can be an addiction, you can get institutionalized, like jail or the mental hospital.
Great story. I always wonder what the stories are of the homeless people I pass every day, and what they are thinking – but I get depressed if I linger on that too long. I obviously don’t want to wind up that way. I agree – that “Fuck, I say to the morning air” line is brilliant!
When I first worked in the city, there was Rick, outside 7Eleven. I talked to him every morning, sometimes even arriving late to work because of it. He spare changed and I would stand there with him. We would smoke my cigarettes and sometimes I would bring him a coffee. Once, a winter coat.
He had regulars. The people who gave to him…it just fascinated me. Men and women in business suits, mothers with kids, construction workers…And his story just unfolded as he stared off into the distance. It poured out of him. A lost wife and child, his money in a “trust” ( this is a common theme. Each homeless friend I have had has had “rich relatives” or money tucked away somewhere). Eventually he had an apartment paid for by the trust.
Then, he disappeared. Vanished. Couple of his friends told me that was how it was. Years later I saw him and we both looked terrible. I had just had a miscarriage and he had just been kicked out of his apartment. His beard and hair were long again and he was very incoherent. I was sad to see him walk away.
My current friend lives at the YMCA, which is this enormous old building on Commonwealth Ave, the main drag of the first trolley car in the country. He works for this wonderful organization called Spare Change. Its a homeless written and produced newspaper. You are certified as a “sales associate”, they sell the papers to them, just like old school newsies. They sell and make a profit. The paper is about social and political issues facing the homeless. I can only pay 3 out of 5 times I see him, but he always gives me one. We have talks like I remember with Rick, altho this gentleman is a touch more paranoid. lol
It’s chemical. Things happen, apparently random, but not.
I had a friend once who was chemically dependant on a girl he worked with. They didn’t like each other but had to be close otherwise they became sick.
If this man doesn’t see you he’ll become ill and might die.
A thought.
RR
I agree with the first tw0 lines. The rest…. N0t s0 much.
I dig the point of view, the frankness and grit, but not without a hint of compassion. A superb vignette!