2002-06-11 - Everybody Has A Family Story (or 10)

Everybody Has A Choice

Nearly every day on my way in to work, I pass a scrubby-looking man. He's standing on the corner with an upside down ballcap in his hand asking if anyone can spare some change. Most of the time he looks completely out of it, the words just coming out of his mouth as if it's a recording, and other times he's standing there smoking, alert, looking around. Like most everyone else, I pass by without making eye contact or giving any change, though my pockets jingle with the change meant for my morning coffee.

I do not support giving change to a homeless person. Sure they need to eat. But the majority also need to drink their alcohol and smoke their cigarettes, and I am not supporting that. What they need is to get some help. There are many places in this large city to seek help. They need to get a job. And I'm not talking a high-tech super dooper job. There are other options. They also need to accept help from their family if they offer, and from their mothers, who continue to love them unconditionally. They need to do all this instead of copping out and resorting to begging for money. But you can only help someone who wants the help.

I pass this dirty homeless man everyday, and as each day goes by though, I feel more and more guilty for not stopping. Not talking to him. Not giving him something to eat. A bar of soap. Something. I have even begun to walk on the other side of the side simply to avoid him.

What's the big deal? Who do I try to avoid him? Why do I feel badly about doing so?

Because he's my uncle.

And I can't support someone who has rejected every form of help offered to him. And for what he has put my Grandmother and my father through.