| 7/19/2006 Show Me the Talent For the umpteenth time this month, yet another person has asked me for money? I could see him looking my way, and I walked a little bit further away.
I peered at him sideways from behind my sunglasses. The mere presence of the sunglasses is meant to dissuade the daily horde of beggars from asking me for money. It didn't work. I kept walking. I usually feel guilty about this and immediately two things happen: 1) I check to see if I have 50 cents. On this day, I indeed did. 2) I recall my mother's phrase, which has been repeated countless times by others: "There by the grace of God goes you." Oh great, Catholic guilt. In reality, I'm probably not that far from their own situation, although I think I would find a menial job before I hit the mean streets in search of two quarters. • This plea for cash is almost universal here in Pittsburgh. It's never a dime or a nickel or a dollar; it's always 50 cents. I sometimes want to engage these people in conversation and ask what they plan to do with 50 cents. You can't buy a candy bar for 50 cents. Donut? Nope. Ii supposed you could buy half a donut, but I don't think stores are selling half a donut. Bus ride? Sorry pal, but rides start at a buck and a quarter. Taxi? Forget it. Jitney? Only if you want someone to ridicule you. I suppose if you get enough people to give you 50 cents, you could actually buy a bottle of water. Or in the case of most of the beggars, a can of beer or some drugs. • I'm not as cold and heartless as it might seem. I have in the past given people money. The last time was the summer of 2003 to a bum whose job seemed to be sitting outside a restaurant asking for money while sipping from a beer bottle. I'm sure he put the money into a college fund. I'm sure he didn't. I've also bought food for one man. That was in New Jersey. Apparently, he has scammed quite a few people with this trick. • The thing that irks me about beggars these days is that they put so little effort into it. I'm more inclined to drop some coins – or even a dollar bill or two – into a basket if they're playing a harmonica, playing a guitar, singing, doing a magic show or a little dance. I want more than a hand sticking out in front of them, a wanton desire for my money or a plastic cup and a cardboard sign with something undecipherable scribbled on it. It usually laments their situation without giving details. I'd actually like to see some information or at least something true: "I didn't study in high school." "I've never had any ambition." "I need money for wine." As it is now, it might as well just say, "Gimme." • Some time ago, I heard two young white men talking about their lives. Both couldn't have been more than 22 or 23, and each had just gotten out of rehab ... again. They were talking about some guy who had relapsed and died. One of them held a menial job – dishwashing, while the other was a laborer and living with his pregnant girlfriend in her parent's basement. "I think we're together for the kid," he told his buddy. I wonder if this is what either had planned for their lives. I wonder if the beggars planned this for their lives. It's very sad. • Beggars don't keep up with inflation. At least the ones here in Pittsburgh don't. I guess it's a reflection of the fact that math and finances aren't their strong suit. About 10 years ago, I think beggars were asking for 50 cents. It's should be up to $5 by now. Of course, the people who really want your cash will just hit you from behind with a rock or brick and take what they want. It actually happened to a co-worker several years ago. This is all rather mean-spirited, and I suppose that I should either pony up with some money for the next time or talk with some of these people and find out what led them down life's path to land them on a street corner in search of 50 cents. • On my 15-block walk to my car today, a wheelchair-bound beggar tried to cut me off in his motorized quest for cash. What has become of Pittsburgh? Just once I'd like to get from work to the bus stop without a plea for 50 cents. |