Humanizing Homelessness

I must admit that I used to be one of those people that would cringe at the thought of some panhandler approaching me asking for change. I had the preconceived notion that they were drug or alcohol addicted and they would use the money to feed their habit. I lumped them into all into a group of lazy people who chose to live that lifestyle. I now know that I was very very judgemental and very very wrong.

My graduate studies really enlightened my thinking about homelessness and poverty. I now realize the complexity, difficulties, and prejudices about street involved people. It is not about choice or laziness, there are many factors that place people in that situation. I won't get into it here about the social inequity but I now have a different view about it.

Life lesson from Micah....

My niece Micah is another reason why I think about panhandlers differently. She is a bright three year old who makes me smile with her boundless energy and completely unjaded view of life. My sister told me a story about when Micah saw some homeless people while they were driving and asked why those people looked like that. At three she could see that they were different but she wanted to know why. My sister explained that they didn't have a home. She wanted to know why they couldn't just buy one. She was told that they didn't have the money to buy one, which immediately prompted to her to offer her piggy bank so they won't be homeless. Of course, she didn't understand the scale of money or poverty, but she did understand the principle of compassion. Ever since I heard that story, I try to keep her in mind whenever I see a homeless person. She inspires me to buy someone a coffee, give them food, or just smile at them and acknowledge them as a person and not a social pariah.

Another life lesson....

Almost every morning on my walk to work, at the corner of Burrard and Davie, there is an Aboriginal Man who sits on the corner playing a very lovely tune on the recorder. A few feet away there is a baby carriage filled with his possessions. Without fail, every morning he smiles, waves at me,wishes me a good morning, and as I walk past he tells me to have a good day. He never asks me for money but he always smiles at me. I don't know his name, he doesn't know my name, and we have only had the briefest of conversations. All I know is that he sleeps in a park. Yet, no matter what he always smiles at me and greets me enthusiastically. On my way across the Burrard street bridge, I see these well dressed individuals on their way to work and I often smile at them yet few of them smile at me back at me or wish me a good day.

I look forward to seeing him in the morning because no matter what he aknowledges me as someone worthy of his time and attention. He reminds me that I am human and that at least one person out there that will take the time to wish me a good morning. A smile does truly brighten the day.