Hot lunch for a hungry man

Hey, do you all remember when I posted about that man in the grocery store that my mom wanted me to slip money to when I was in high school? And how I got too shy to do it and have wished that I had done it for years since?

Well, your comments on that post reminded me that just because I didn't help that man didn't mean that I couldn't help other people. So, today I went to buy a sandwich at the deli/hot bar next door to my office, and I saw this homeless man in a wheelchair sitting outside with a cup of change. I've seen him there a lot, and while I always try not to just ignore homeless people, I've always told him what I tell anyone who asks me for money, which is that I'm sorry but I don't have any cash (which is usually the case).

It's cold today, though, and it was raining this morning, and he was just kind of sitting there hunched over in his chair, and he didn't have very much money in his cup, and I saw him and he didn't even ask me for money this time. And I didn't want to give him money, because, well, you know all the standard arguments about not handing out money to homeless people on the street and who knows what they'll use it for and all the rest.

But I thought about the fact that I was about to walk into that restaurant and walk out again with food for myself that I had paid for on my credit card, and I remembered that one time when I was maybe nine years old, my family was driving to the grocery store and we passed a homeless Vietnam veteran with a cardboard sign standing on the median of the road. And when we were at the grocery store, my parents bought him a pre-made sandwich and a bottle of juice, and on our way home, we stopped to give it to him and he seemed so surprised to get it.

So I hesitated for a minute outside the restaurant, and then I figured, screw it, it only costs a few dollars and I bet he'll eat it and he doesn't look like he's eaten much recently, so I walked up to him and I said hi. And he just kind of looked at me and I said to him that I didn't have any cash but that I would buy him some lunch if he'd like. And he kind of stared at me and then he mumbled something about how that would be nice. He was talking very quietly and I had to bend over very close to him to hear.

He said yes, he'd like some lunch, so I asked him what he'd like to eat, and he took quite awhile to think about it, and then he said that maybe some chicken and rice would be nice. So I told him that I would see what they had and went inside. I placed the order for my sandwich and while they were making it, I got a to-go box and walked up and down the hot bar, looking for chicken and rice. They had turkey that looked like chicken, hot and roasted and simple, so I got a big piece of that. The only chicken they had was Cajun, and I wasn't sure if he would like that, but I put in a small piece. Then I put in a lot of rice and added a few baked new potatoes and a bunch of mixed vegetables--broccoli and carrots and cauliflower and asparagus and peppers. I kind of felt like I should put in something else, but the box was pretty full and I didn't see anything else that seemed basic and filling and healthy in the hot bar, so I closed it up.

I remembered the juice my parents bought for that homeless veteran, so I got a bottle of orange juice to go with the meal. I wanted to get the kind with added calcium, but they only had that in the little cartons and I didn't see any straws, so I just got the normal kind in a bottle that would be more drinkable.

Then I paid for my lunch and his, and packed his up in a plastic bag with a knife, a fork, a spoon, and a few napkins. I put my own lunch in a separate bag and I went back outside and I gave him the bag with his lunch in it. He asked me to hang the bag on the side of his wheelchair, which I did. Then he said thank you and I told him to have a nice day and I went back to my office.

That was it--that's all that happened. I feel vaguely good about having done it, but more sad about the fact that it was so little, and about the fact that he will probably have to eat his food in his wheelchair in the middle of the sidewalk. And I also feel bad because even though this was a good thing to do, it doesn't replace that other man in the grocery store, and the fact that I could have done something to make his day nicer, and I didn't. No matter how many homeless people I feed (and I don't think this is something I'll be doing all the time, but maybe every now and then), that other man will still not have his New Year's card with the $20. And all the homeless people in DC, and everywhere, will still be homeless.

But still. Doing something little is better than doing nothing. And I am so glad I have parents who raised me to understand that. One opportunity taken does not make up for another one lost, but at least there is one more person in this city eating a hot lunch on a cold day.