Brother Can You Spare A Dime?

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There have been times in my life when I'd lower the window and hand the guy standing on the corner at Teall Avenue in Syracuse a handful of change.

Late yesterday afternoon I didn't even look at him.

And I'm not a miserable enough person who wants to shout out:

"Get a job!"

I don't know that guy's story and deep down I've always felt some compassion.

I just had a very hard week...again...a lot of work...and I didn't feel like being brought down. I knew what his sign said:

Homeless!

War Vet!!

Hungry!!!!

Can you spare a dime????

"We passed him the other day," one of the guys who works in the nearby office said, "And he was talking on an I-phone."

So.

He has a phone.

That doesn't mean he ain't broke.

Yet you hear all the stories of men making good money...tax-free money...and then going to a home anyway...

The 'Homeless' thing is false advertising.

They'll just buy drugs or booze with the money they get.

Perhaps.

But I certainly have given a dime or two to a man standing on the corner elsewhere.

Why?

Well, because it has nothing to do with them, I suppose.

Sometimes I feel compassionate.

If I had over a buck or two I do it not to make that guy rich...

...but just to change my own mood.

It's for me.

Helps me feel a little connected to another human.

"I hate those people," the guy who told me the cell phone story said.

Hate is a strong word.

The beggars certainly irritate me when my mood isn't great...

...but it ain't about them.

Not really.

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