Choices

A homeless man came into the store the other day.

He said he was a homeless Veteran and was making his way down to the hotel on the corner, but he would appreciate a brief rest before he continued on his way. Wanting to help, especially a Veteran, I gave him a chair and he sat. And talked. He told me how he hates the way Denver treats its vets, that Loveland is so much better. He told me how he was short his rent payment because he got robbed of $200 recently. He told about his knee, and his hand, that were painful and swollen. I was feeling helpless, all I could do is listen, I had no answers for him. At this point, my boss came through, mostly to check on me to make sure all was well.

I should take a moment to mention that my boss is, at heart, a caring person.

I “introduced” him to our visitor (although I didn’t have his name) and our Veteran Visitor took an immediate dislike to my boss and got verbally abusive and threatening. I was all heart, according to him, but my boss was everything bad about the world. My boss just listened, he didn’t say a word, and the man left. I found the entire thing upsetting. I didn’t like the way the man was speaking to my boss, I didn’t like how much hate and anger the man seemed to have inside of him, I didn’t like that I couldn’t help him. I didn’t like the yelling.

Were I going to psychoanalyze the situation, I would say that my boss was the personification of everything the man hated about Denver. But I digress.

I see a lot of statistics about homelessness, and like most statistics, you can present them to say what you want them to say. I don’t really believe that the man wanted to be homeless. Although there was this one time….

Quite a few years ago, a good friend of mine was going to some sort of gathering ( I don’t remember that part) in another state south of Colorado with a friend of his. In Pueblo, their car broke down, and my friend called and asked me if I would mind driving down to Pueblo and loaning him my car so they could continue on their journey, and he would arrange for another friend to come and get me. Yeah, I know. I’m a little nuts. Three hours later, I am sitting in a bar in Pueblo, waiting for a ride back to Denver. There was a man there, we started a conversation. (Sometimes, folks just want someone to talk to.) He was homeless, but stayed in the bar in a back room on occasion, in exchange for helping to clean up the bar. He had several family members all within 20 miles of Pueblo that he could live with, but he hadn’t seen any of them in about 10 years. I presented him with a question. If I had the power to snap my fingers, and give him a home, a family, a good job that he would enjoy, would he take it? His answer? After a pause, “No. Too much work.”

That sticks with me.

We all make choices. I know that many, many who are homeless would rather not be, and they are homeless due to circumstances beyond their control, and would appreciate a helping hand. I know there are addiction issues and mental health issues that complicate the situation. And I don’t mean to be heartless. But how many of us are where we are simply because anything would have been, well, too much work?

Back in Denver, we haven’t seen the man since, nor do I think we will. Still, I wish I would have at least learned his name. I hope he found his place.

Peace,

Kathie