Those on the side of the road and food

Someone with whom I have an immense respect for once told me that he never gave money to beggars on the street. Yet, when someone would come around to the back of his restaurant he would find a away for them to earn it.

This left a question in my echoing brain...If he really did not need the work done, why make a bum work for it, why not just give them the money? The restaurant owner went on and on about making them earn the money and how it would teach them responsibility.

It came down to never give anyone a free lunch.

Today I was in a funk, depressed about the way everything is going and totally unsure what I could do about it. I'd had a shitty day yesterday and was basically in a blue haze. While I was driving to my next delivery I got off the highway and saw a guy with a sign asking for any contribution. "Anything Helps," was what his placard said.

Usually, I ignore these guys, I think there is some kind of organization in the area that sends people out to beg for money and then pool it all together. Somehow this seems dishonest to me. At any rate, I thought that maybe I needed to do a random act of kindness to help elevate my fowl mood. But the words of my mentor echoed in my brain.

So, I pulled my hand away from my wallet and decided to give him my lunch. After all, I had some money to buy lunch later, right? Yeah, I know, "Never give a free lunch." I thought, what if this guy really is in need, maybe this food would help more than cash?  At least he could not use the food to buy booze just to get drunk.

Usually when I do this, give my lunch to someone, I feel like I have done something good. But my suspicions about some kind of organization working the streets for money spoiled that gratification. Also the knowing that the only reason I did this was to make me feel better helped to spoil my euphoria.

So, why do we give to charities? There are a number of reasons, or symptoms for this behavior: Philanthropic, the desire to help the down-trodden, some people have an excess of cash, some just want the look of gratitude they get.

I guess I am of the latter category. I don't have that much to give, nor do I have a whole lot of happiness. One of the few times I know that I have done something good is when I give something to someone who has less than me.

In a way this is a very selfish thing I do. By giving, or helping someone in need, I am giving happiness to me. Now this can create an inner conflict, like the one we talked about above: should I give to someone knowing that the REAL reason I am doing it is to ease my inner turmoil? Or should I keep my lunch and let others feel the bliss of giving?

This is compounded by the knowledge, or feeling that there is some kind of scam going on, thus negating any good I may be giving the individual.

When I got through the light I had given the guy my lunch, yet felt no euphoria. Later in the day, I bought lunch at Hardy's or someplace and realized that in effect I had given the guy $10.00 and had gotten no real emotional boost.

olc

No Real Choice Part II

His mind wondered back to the days when he was a dishwasher at some restaurant in town. Those were fun days, he'd had a motorcycle and a couple girlfriends. There was one draw back though, he also remembered the waiters trying to get him alone in the walk-in so they could "talk". After a time his "gaydar" was honed to the point where he knew when someone was gay and trying to hit on him. His gaydar saved him from one or two potentially dangerous situations. But he also learned that just because someone was gay, did not mean they were any less of a man then a straight one. He made some friends with those guys.

Recently, Sally had told him that she did not like boys. In fact, she said she was seeing another girl and she thought it was fun to be with her girlfriend. Sam tried to take it in stride. Kammie, her girlfriend, was nice and Sam thought they looked comfortable together. Sally assured her father that they were not having sex. But, he had seen them snuggling and kissing goodnight, looking very comfortable. He tried to let it go, yet his mind kept getting stuck. 

"So guys, what's this all about?" Sam thought he knew, but did not want to jump to any conclusions. He felt they needed to tell, clear the air. It was not really a confessional, but a catharsis. He nodded at some chairs. Sitting, Sam waited for one of the two to start talking. All he got was silence.

"So?" He prompted. Only doe eyed silence. "Come on, why are we here?"

Now it turned to teary eyed silence as their doe eyes liquified.

Finally Kammie said, "They beat the shit out of Andy. Now is he here and so are we. She, I mean he would be here for us..."

"She? Hmm, Sally made that same slip earlier. Is there something I should know? Kids don't go around beating people this bad for no reason. It almost sounds like they were trying to kill him, or were afraid of him somehow."

More silence, but their body language especially Sally's, told Sam the dam was about to break. This is the hardest time, waiting for them to find their words, he sat patiently.

Before the moment completely passed Sam said, "There is more to this than a locker-room beat down, right?" He tried to show as much compassion as he could without going over the top. It seemed to work a little, both girls seemed to relax some.

Sam waited some more. Finally Kimmie took a deep breath. Sam had to admit to himself that he wished it had been his daughter.

"Andy likes to call herself Mandy. We all call her Mandy. Mandy is short for..."

"Amanda, I know. Do you think Mandy was hurt because of that?" He took a deep breath of acceptance.

Good, now we have that hurtle passed. And the tears started flowing.

After a long moment, Sally was able to ask, "Did you know? How did you know?"

Sam sat back in his chair and thought about his answer. He took a deep breath, "I didn't really know, but I suspected it. Maybe the way Mandy dresses, maybe the slips everyone makes when talking about him?"

"HER!" came the immediate retort. "You need to say, 'her' when talking about Mandy. She thinks of herself as a girl even though she's in a boy's body."

"OK. I'll try. But you gotta remember I knew him as a boy until just now, OK? It will take a minute to get used to. So you think he--she, I mean," Sam saw both girls getting ready to jump on his missed pronoun. "So you think they beat Mandy because of all that?

"Well, yeah," was Sally's indignant reply. "considering what they were saying."

"Oh, I see. I'm thinking; 'queer,' 'freak,' 'fag,' That kind of thing?" That brought more tears and sobbing.

"And worse things. I'm not going to say them and I hope I never hear those awful words again!" said Kammie. Sally’s eyes were filling with tears, but she managed to nod at Kammie’s words. Sam thought,  Me too, But life gives us a hard road to follow.

After a long sigh Sam managed, "Do you know what the doctors are saying?" Sam asked looking up.

While the three were talking, a big and burley man had entered the waiting room . Mandy's father walked into the patient lounge joining them. Worry lined the parents' face, his normally keen and excited attitude was muted. Anxiety lined his every movement, it filled his words. "Good news, bad news. How can there be anything good out of this shit? The Doctor says the good news is that there no  serious internal injuries. Her Liver is bruised and stuff like that, nothing that can't be healed with time. That's the good news, I guess.

"A couple of ribs were broken, his---her ankle somehow got sprained and fingers were twisted badly." It was hard to see this strong man so visibly shaken. Sam had known Ed for many years, known him as a decisive and focussed man. They had gone fishing and hiking many times with the kids, yet today he was raw with anxiety and concern for his son(?)daughter. 

This brought up another concern for Sam, did he know about his son's gender identification? Sam did not want to be the one to inform Ed about his son. Today was hard enough as it was.

Many's father kept going on, "They tell me the broken nose and cheekbones will heal with little scaring. One doctor said he did not think plastic surgery was going to be needed. I guess that's good." He pulled a bandanna from his back pocket and wiped his eyes, then nose.

Sam reached out to his friend's shoulder motioning the girls to stay behind. The two men sat in a corner facing each other. He could feel the anguish flowing from the man. "Why did this happen?" asked Sam, trying to gage what Ed knew about his son/daughter.

"Mandy wanted to try on a camisole under her shirt. It was the first time, that I know of, she had done this." Sam drew a slight sigh of relief. "You knew about this right, That my Andy thinks of herself as Mandy, right?" He could see that Ed was regaining some of himself.

"I had my suspicions Ed, but no one really ever told me."

Ed nodded, "I forgot that today was gym day. Having to change in the locker room." Ed sat up a little, "Remember that? It was like something we did to prove we were becoming men. I guess maybe Mandy had something else to prove, I dunno. They tell me that Mandy started to change and someone saw the camisole. I told her that we could make some kind of arrangement to change for gym, but she said no, not yet. I think she forgot about gym today, too. At least I hope so..."

Ed cleared his throat and said, "Excuse me a minute, I gotta use the head." Sam remembered that he had spent time in the Navy. 

"Yeah, sure. I'll be here."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX