Her cardboard sign read:
BROKE. UGLY. OUT OF GAS.
Anything helps.
and it made me chuckle.
I was getting off the freeway just so I could turn around and go back the other way. I was lost again trying to get to my writer's meeting and making the same stupid u-turn I made off I-5 the last time I was in the city. Portland loves to remind me how it's not San Francisco. I never once got lost in San Francisco.
At first I didn't open my wallet or roll down my window. I never give money to people with freeway signs, not because I don't care, but because I find the transaction itself awkward. What exactly am I paying for? It feels demeaning to both of us, this exchange of cash that I earned and she didn't. I'm not ashamed to admit that I'm a capitalist, an investor - I'm hardwired that way and always have been - and that means I want something for my money, even if it's only a promise. And you can't really buy that from a street beggar.
I wondered if the sign was true. I couldn't see her face, but I checked out the rest of her. The bottom half of her head was shaved and a husk of dreadlocks shot out of the top half, barely contained by a rubber band. Her clothes - an army green wifebeater, a long denim skirt, tennis shoes - were threadbare, but not dirty. She was probably my age. From ten yards away, I admired her arms. They were lean, tan, tattooed, strong. Looking at her made me feel flabby and overfed and I thought, she could do a lot with those arms. She's stronger than me, for sure. Why isn't she working with those arms?
Then I watched her hobble up to the car in front of me, bow her head and accept a stranger's cash. Something in the way she winced with every step made me follow the seam of her skirt down to her foot. She had a prosthetic leg.
I still couldn't see her face.
I hesitated briefly, wondering if I'd have time to finish the transaction before the light changed, but then I realized I cared less about the person behind me than I did about her and reached for my wallet. I had more, but I took out two dollars, rolled down my window and held out my hand. My stomach lurched.
She was fiddling with her backpack and didn't look up before the light turned green and the three cars in front of me pulled ahead. Instead, I pulled over, blocking traffic to get as close to her as I could without hitting the median. I didn't want her to have to walk on that leg any more than she had to. It looked so painful when she walked.
I stopped two feet from her and when she looked up at me, a genuinely surprised smile spread across her face all the way up to her eyes. "Thank you," she said and her eyes said she meant it and I said, "Good luck," and wished like hell I could turn those ones into hundreds. Her arms were hard, but her face was soft, open, stunning. Something about the way she looked at me made me blush and I wanted to tell her how wrong she was.
She wasn't the ugly one.
Beautiful. Just beautiful.
Makes me feel a little guilty.
Posted by: Laura | June 03, 2009 at 03:03 PM
That was beautiful. Thank you for sharing.
Posted by: Lynda | June 03, 2009 at 03:09 PM
Amanda, this actually made tears well up in my eyes. I'm hardwired a capitalist too, but apparently a soft-hearted one.
It also makes me even more excited to read your book. You have such a gift with words.
Posted by: bethany actually | June 03, 2009 at 04:30 PM
Uh...did my comment disappear?
Posted by: bethany actually | June 03, 2009 at 04:31 PM
Weird. My first comment disappeared, so I tried again and that one appeared briefly then vanished again. So I'll try signing out of TypeKey and give it another shot...
Amanda, that made me tear up. I'm hardwired a capitalist too, but apparently I'm a softhearted one.
Also, this makes me even more excited to read your book. You have such a gift for words!
Posted by: bethany actually | June 03, 2009 at 04:33 PM
this really is beautiful.
Posted by: kristen | June 03, 2009 at 04:59 PM
I know it really wasn't this kind of post but.....
I have to share MY favorite homeless person sign. It read "Smile if you m@sturbate." Dude had EVERYONE smiling.
On another note, great post and great to see you writing everyday.
Posted by: Lindsay | June 03, 2009 at 06:16 PM
This is beautifully written, Amanda. And don't underestimate your grace or beauty, for looking her in the eyes and helping, even if it was just a little bit.
Posted by: Sarah Viola | June 03, 2009 at 07:01 PM
my most fav post of yours!
Posted by: Nicole | June 03, 2009 at 07:21 PM
Great, great entry. I have such conflicting feelings about those who beg on the street. Although I'm a bleeding heart, I usually consider it counterproductive on a macro level, in that it makes people fear/disdain the homeless. At least in cases where the beggars approach you and are a bit aggressive about it. There's also the issue of the non-needy that beg...
Anyway, this entry does a great job describing the drive to help these people. It's hard when your heart and brain tug in different directions.
Posted by: Becca | June 03, 2009 at 07:41 PM
Your post reminded me of this beautiful video, which won the short story category at Cannes 2008. Worth every second: http://bit.ly/1GV3b
Posted by: kirida | June 03, 2009 at 08:35 PM
When I lived in a city, I walked past homeless people every day between the subway stop and work. Sometimes I'd drop them change, but usually not. It's too hard to care that much. But every once in a while, I would connect with someone. Really, really connect. I think as long as we can stay open to that, then we are doing just fine.
It's always good to get the reminder, too, that we live the lives we live because of hard work, yes, but also circumstance.
Posted by: Alias Mother | June 04, 2009 at 04:02 AM
Beautifully written. I've been reading you for many, many years. This is probably one of the best things you've ever written (in my opinion).
I can't wait to read your book!
Posted by: Leticia | June 04, 2009 at 05:52 AM
Beautifully written. Thank you for reminding us to stop and think and experience life.
Posted by: Jennifer | June 04, 2009 at 08:51 AM
It's such a mental dance - do you, don't you, who am I to decide who's worthy and who isn't, but why should I give this person my money? You want to show compassion, but you can't give money to everyone. Cue: guilt.
Anyway, you nailed it. Beautifully written. Thank you.
Posted by: Moose | June 04, 2009 at 10:00 AM
Best post of yours that I have read. Your writing talents are quite obvious. Kudos.
Posted by: Corey Bowe | June 04, 2009 at 02:26 PM
Truly lovely.
Posted by: Sarah, Goon Squad Sarah | June 04, 2009 at 08:54 PM
I loved this post!! I loved too how you handled the exchange. I lived in NYC for many years. At first, the site of a homeless person made me horribly uncomfortable because I was young, naive and had never experienced this part of life before. At some point humbled by my own misfortune I realized that this could be me. That we are all connected and this person is a person..just like me. Love, love, love....in whatever way we can.
Posted by: Michele | June 05, 2009 at 01:37 PM
Houses are quite expensive and not every person can buy it. However, loan are created to support different people in such cases.
Posted by: GriffinBette | April 01, 2010 at 12:29 PM