Christmas and the Homeless Man

Politically speaking, I might be to the right of Rush Limbaugh. Well, no, that is a bit of an exaggeration. There are some moderate views I have such as on the death penalty and gun control. But, those are two whole different issues. Now, for some reason, whenever you tell someone you are a conservative, the natural reaction of the liberal is that you are bigoted, heartless, self-centered, corrupt, evil...and those are probably the good qualities that liberals assign to conservatives. But, there is one issue that I make no apologies about; my empathy for the homeless. I have always had great compassion for the homeless. Among my many fears in this life is one that someday I could become homeless. "But, for the grace of God, there go I" ...is the way I view this issue.

Now, I know what many of you are thinking...some or even most are alcoholics, drug users, mentally ill or all three combined. But, here is a late Christmas gift for you; they are still human beings. Sure, some are vestiges of humanity wrapped up in torn and filthy clothing. Many haven't had a shower in weeks or probably even months. They are the invisible people you try to pretend don't exist as you head toward that weekend in the mountains or at the beach. To acknowledge them would be painful for many. For some...well, you get in life what you put in it. Bah Humbug! There is an element of painful truth to this, unfortunately. Some or even many of the homeless are where they are by the choices they made in life. In our society, you are allowed to make choices to get to a "safe place " in life. Capitalism is the engine that has made our nation the greatest (ok, I'm waxing nostalgic here) on earth.

What this is all leading to is what happened to me as I was taking my little 6 year old niece to Target to see Santa Claus one last time on Christmas Eve (she wanted a pony and, living in an exclusive neighborhood, that just wasn't happening). As we parked, my niece pulled on my coat sleeve and said, "Uncle David, what is that man doing at the garbage can? He's not going to eat that, is he?" I turned to see what she was talking about. There was a man, I guessed was in his 70s, leaning over in an overflowing dumpster directly to the side of the department store. He was your typical homeless person; dirty, filthy and probably in dire need of a bath. I was thinking how unfair it was that this man was fishing around for something to eat on Christmas Eve and people were inside splurging away with their dollars on gifts for loved ones. I wasn't the only person thinking this way. You see, I had given my niece an early Christmas gift of $30. She was determined to blow it all in the department store on candy for all the cousins that were to stop over on Christmas. Notice I didn't say she was going to spend it on herself.

As we continued on to the front doors of Target, my niece simply couldn't take her eyes over this poor unfortunate soul. I had already told her that there are missions downtown who will feed him Christmas dinner and make sure he had a happy Christmas. At least, that is what I was trying reassure myself before the erstwhile niece pulled at my heartstrings. "Uncle David, we can't let that man go hungry on Christmas, can we? He was somebody's baby at Christmas one time, wasn't he?" I looked down at those innocent eyes, not yet polluted by man's inhumanity to man, to find myself completely speechless to a 6 year old child. What could I say? "I want to give that man my money. He needs to eat Christmas dinner," said my benevolent niece. "You are NOT giving him that money. I will give him some money after we go see Santa. And you are NOT going over there with me when I go. That is not negotiable," I told her without thinking if she even knew what negotiable meant. She was still protesting as we went into the store. Long story short, she refused to talk to Santa, she refused to buy any candy for Christmas. I was getting the message. By this time my little niece was in tears. "It's Christmas, Uncle David, Christmas. " As I looked at her, I knew I was beat. So, I made a deal with her; if she would talk to Santa about that Pony one last time, I would give that homeless man some money. That wasn't good enough. She wanted him to have her money.

So, after I got her in the car (after buying her the candy and she begged Santa one last time for that pony), and slowly drove over near to where the homeless man was still digging around for something to eat. I locked her in the car (and parked near a security officer in his 3-wheeler) and proceeded quite warily over to this man. "Sir, my niece wants you to go somewhere and eat Christmas dinner. She said you were somebody's baby at Christmas at one time. I know I can't make you spend this money on food. You may spend it on cheap wine. But, I want you to know this; there is a little girl depending on you to have Christmas dinner somewhere. She wants you to have a nice Christmas. I want you to have a nice Christmas," I said. "Please take this money, buy something nice for yourself, buy something to eat. Don't do it for me. But, for a little girl who still believes in Santa Claus and in the magic of Christmas Eve. Do it for that reason if for no other," I continued. The startled old man looked at me in astonishment. I was thinking of making a brave retreat when the man suddenly started crying and hung his head down. Yeah, he smelled bad, he was filthy and i was thinking what am I doing here. I pushed the money into his shaking, callused hand that probably had not held a bar of soap in a long time. "Thank...thank you. I promise you and that little girl I will buy something to eat for Christmas. Thank you. Thank you so much, " he cried out to me. I was still in shock I had done this. All I wanted now was to get away out of the cold, blustery day and into my car with my very determined niece.

Now, I will never know if he really did buy food with that $30. I have to consider he did not. Most that I tell this story to believe that I just gave him money he spent on several bottles of cheap wine to drink it up that Christmas Eve with his homeless buddies. That may be so. But, I like to believe that inner child in him relented for my little 6 year old niece for Christmas. I want to believe that and so does my niece. As I got in the car, her beaming face was enough to make me feel good (she got that $30 back in a gift card by the way) more than I would have believed. Most reading this story probably think it was the homeless man that got the gift for Christmas. Some might think my niece got a gift for her generosity to someone who is considered the dregs of society. I like to believe it was someone else that really got that gift. It was me. For a brief moment in time, I too was a child who believed in Santa, in the innate goodness of people on Christmas Eve. Thanks to my niece, I was able to not only talk the talk, but walk the walk. Thanks to my niece, I received a gift on Christmas that can not be measured in monetary value. It was a gift of belief and hope for our fellow man on the Holy Day of Christmas.

And, who knows? Maybe she will get that gift of a pony she so desperately wants some Christmas Day.