kubey town

Beggars and Choosers

There is a woman in Sitges, Spain who comes to your table at the cafe with a small porcelain turtle with fins that move. She sets it on your table with a small card that says she is deaf and needs money and would you like to help and buy a turtle. She goes to every table and sets them down with the card that has her plea in several languages. She then dutifully re-collects them and nods at you understandingly if you don’t want to buy.

There are men in Bologna, Italy that come to your table at the cafe and loudly spew English phrases and try to fist bump you. They are all smiles and shady business. “Hey dude! Hey man! How are you?” They put an arm around your shoulder and dig into a dirty grocery bag for today’s special offer. A hello kitty flashlight or a package of tissues, thrust under your nose like it were a diamond necklace. When rebuffed, the act is dropped abruptly to be replaced with a straightforward beg for money. Another rebuff will get you a dirty look that makes you clutch your purse, but then they are off to the next table, hands raised for a high five.

Why do we give to the people we choose to give to? Everyone has a personal policy. My husband writes a check on the spot to the lesbian outside the grocery store in support of gay marriage. He also pretends not to speak English when a beggar comes to our table at the cafe. I had a boyfriend once who wanted to be a better Jew so he gave to anyone that asked him. He once infuriated me because he gave our home address to a sketchy man with a clipboard along with five dollars.

The same boyfriend gave his gloves to a man on the L train during a particularly frosty Chicago winter. We talked with the man for several stops and learned how you can lose your life practically overnight. Not everyone on the street is a drug addict or a mentally disabled person (which is a whole other sad story.) This man told us how he got laid off and little by little he lost everything. It all trickled away through his fingers- his job, his family, his friends. It was the first time I could really see it all laid out. I could see it happening to anyone. All the decisions he made, I would’ve made. All he could do was keep adapting and moving forward. This wasn’t someone who needed a hand-out, this was someone who needed a handshake. Just a reminder that he was a human being and not a piece of trash that no one wants to look at.

Giving those gloves and taking the time to talk to that man is probably more than I would’ve done for sure. My boyfriend had lived a fairly privileged life and I feel that can help someone give as much as enable them to be selfish. I am a woman and I had a modest upbringing. Neither of those qualities lends itself to giving or speaking to strangers. My personal policy is basically not to give anything to anyone. Generally that makes things easier, but everyone’s personal policy is foggy at best. We all have our days where we pretend not to speak the language and avert our eyes, and we all have our days where we give the gloves off our hands.