Some people who read one of my early posts may recall a Spideresque rant concerning the hypocrisy of man towards his starving fellow brothers. On Thursday evening I was shamed and given hope.

After a long and tiring day of painting, cleaning, and trying to organize some semblance of order in our apartment, I took Sucky, Assgrabber, The Wyfe, and their daughter out to Subway for dinner. The joint was empty except for a couple of bored employees, one of whom I tried being friendly with. I ordered a tuna sandwich with honey mustard. It was good.

In mid-meal, a man came off the street with a backpack and a hand luggage bag. Both looked heavy. The man obviously hadn’t had a shower in quite some time and looked hungry. He moved slowly as if disoriented, maybe high on some drug or drunk or both. He asked for a paper cup, filled it with ice, water, and proceed to drink. He then exited with the same slow deliberateness, returned, disappeared into the bathroom for a few minutes, and came back out. As he was leaving for the second time The Wyfe, got up and asked him something. He shook his head and left.

My first reaction when I saw this man was one of discomfort and fear that his presence would mean the temporary shaking of the sheltered, impregnable wall which I have built up against this sort of thing. Since I have left Africa I try to forget that such people exist, but there are unfortunates even in Canada. I don’t want to get into a discussion about what might have brought this man to his current state, but rather how threatened I felt by his presence. On the other hand I asked The Wyfe the content of her short discourse with him. She had asked him if he wanted a sandwich and he refused. She felt sorry for him and wanted to help. Now Assgrabber and The Wyfe are not nearly as well financially endowed as myself, and I was ashamed by how easily they were willing to give, when all I wanted was for him to disappear. I have been called generous on several occasions, but most often my generosity is a bribe at some kind friendship. I would never have considered approaching this fellow on my own. Sometimes when someone asks me for change on the street I give it, but I hardly ever approach someone to give. Most often it is asked for, and I want to buy forgiveness from a sin or some sort. I feel ashamed of my negative reaction. My first instinct was threat, her’s was compassion.

I realize that I have much thinking and reordering to do in my mind before I can go on criticizing the human race for the way it treats itself. Even though my post was more of a self-critique, I have no right to condemn, when I too am at fault. I want to eventually do something, but I am not prepared to do it now. I am too selfish. I have been working on a plan to buy forgiveness from whatever greater power, society, or myself, but I haven’t the means to implement it as of yet. This will take several years. However in the mean time I will strive to suppress my negative reactions to the presence of the unfortunate. I used to feel compassion, but it has turned to fear. I don’t want to be this way. I’m not proud of myself.