I was considering the awful plight of the homeless in American cities as winter sets in and, as good as soup kitchens are, I was wondering about another strategy that would also help them. First, one must put oneself in their situation to appreciate what I have to say. Imagine what it must be like to be alone and freezing, with people walking past you, embarrassed by your very presence. “Should I part with a dollar, or shouldn’t I? This guy probably is going to spend it on booze anyhow. It’s his own fault that he is where he is.” Then you pass by, feeling guilty that you did nothing. Or, maybe, you’re feeling content that you spared a dollar. After all, with a dollar here, a dollar there, he could get a McDonald’s and survive.
I’m not judging. I rarely end up in the city. But when I do it’s inevitable that I meet the homeless, lots of them. And what did I do for them? Gave a dollar at the most, then just walked on by, doing my business. Then you hear the self-righteous, when the topic comes up, saying, “Whenever I’m downtown I keep a pocket full of Snickers. That’ll be better for them than money; at least they can’t get drunk on Snickers.” Then, I wonder, do they even do that? I doubt it.
These poor people don’t want a Snickers bar, they want a little money. They’ll figure out what they’re going to do with the money.
Here’s my idea. At these soup kitchens, you need not just caterers, cooks, and servers, you need people who can sit down and get information from the homeless. What kind of information? Names of relatives or old friends. Sounds crazy, right? “They aren’t going to provide that information,” you argue, “even if they had relatives or old friends in the area.” I still think it’s worth a try. What if it was you, or I, who were homeless? Let’s imagine being so hungry and so cold as the sun goes down in the city. “Ah, there’s the shelter. I made it. I’m still alive, and I can get a hot meal. We get a nice smile, a good word from the volunteers, but we sit alone and ashamed. We need to be loved; but, really, by a stranger? There’s too many of us. They can’t love us all. Most of us are obnoxious, anyway. Self-pity takes over, and why not? It’s part of the condition that we are in.”
Now think about it. What if it was you sitting there? In your loneliness and despair, what would you respond to, along with a hot meal, a blanket, and, if you’re really lucky, a bed for the night? I think it would be a question about my family. “Where are you from? Do you have a brother, a sister? An old friend? Do you have anyone who might be wondering where you are?” I do think these wonderful volunteers should try to get a name and some kind of an address to go with the name. Take that name to a computer and do a white pages search. Contact that person. Even if you only succeed in contacting one relative for every ten attempts, you’ve re-activated a relationship. No doubt it might turn ugly: “Joe was a no good, worthless bum,” etc. etc. Then, just say very patiently: “I talked with Joe, today. He gave me your name. He was sober. He’s here, in Boston. I met him at Rosie’s shelter. There’s no more room at the shelter, except for mothers and their children, and the elderly who will die in the cold. He has an old blanket and sleeps by the heating grid outside the Boston Public Library. I told him that if I succeeded in contacting you, I would give you this information. He said ‘thank you’ and he looked less sad as I watched him finish his meal.” Then, all you can do is pray. Joe has a guardian angel and he has a mother in heaven who is waiting to bless your efforts.
I know. Readers are going to say, “Why don’t you do this yourself, Mr. Kelly?” And I have to answer that I cannot. Does that mean I cannot throw out a suggestion to those with greater charity than myself?
