Jeff was off to work early today, and the gray sky warned of another incoming rain, so Marvin and I went for our walk as soon as possible. A heavy mist, what the weather forecast is calling an atmospheric river, warranted a raincoat. We took the reverse of our normal route around the Colorado Street Lagoon and as we got to the end of the pedestrian bridge a man, bundled up in layers of dingy blankets and propped under the awning of the lifeguard building, called out, “Is that a blue heeler?”
The way he asked told me he already knew, of course, Marvin is a blue heeler. I offered a simple, “Yes.”
“His warm coat is good for the cold.” The man’s tone was cordial and clear and this realization genuinely surprised me. I expected someone who had presumably slept under this awning to be under the influence of some substance to stave off the wet chill in the air.
“He just jumped in the lagoon trying to catch some ducks!” I said as Marvin and I slowed to give him our attention.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake!” The man chuckled, as if he were making conversation with a passing pedestrian from a little table at a street-side cafe in Paris.
Marvin and I continued on toward our house, my mind whirring with thoughts:
His voice is very kind. I can’t believe he’s so lucid and cheerful sitting on the hard concrete in this weather.
I can’t wait to get back into our warm house! I’m hungry.
Well, that’s rich! I’m sure I’m not as hungry as him.
Maybe I could make him a sandwich.
Then I became worried about this person being in the rain and cold. When I see people who look down on their luck I always think of ways to help them like I'm Mother Teresa. But often I don’t end up helping because it doesn’t seem practical or safe. And then, I feel bad. I do this -- this vicious mental cycle -- a lot and it makes me feel worse, which does no one any good at all.
I got home and dried off my dog on the deck. I fed him and then found myself standing still in the middle of the kitchen mentally listing irrational excuses why I shouldn’t go back and offer the man some food.
I might feel very awkward. What if he starts behaving erratically? What if it’s very smelly? I’m so sensitive to odors. What if I’m encroaching on his personal space and he is offended?
But he sounded so nice.
I went back and forth in my head, debating how far I was going to take this chance encounter on a Sunday morning.
It was enough to treat him with dignity and say hello like I did. Maybe he doesn’t want my charity.
But he seemed so approachable and I have time and food to offer him. Here was a chance to actually do something nice so why was I scared? I was assuming the worst about someone I didn’t know in order to let myself off the hook for what I knew was the right thing to do. The answer was simple. I was being ridiculous.
The man slept outside. He is hungry. Of course he is!
I made two small turkey sandwiches and gathered a few more snacks. I found myself thinking, I’m so magnanimous, taking this stranger really nice things to eat. And then realizing, I’m just giving him what I’d give anyone to eat. Every time I would get close to being truly selfless, I brought the inner-narrative right back around to me. Me, me, me. But I could see the argument going on in my mind, and knew that however annoying my self-centered motives were, the bottom line was: it’s a good thing to give a hungry person some food.
I put the food in a plastic shopping bag, put my raincoat back on, and walked one block back to the waterfront, leaving Marvin behind. I found the man standing, holding an empty Big Gulp cup and looking down at his pile of things.
“Good morning.”
“Oh, hello!” a glimmer of recognition.
“I walked by before with the blue heeler. I felt hungry and I thought, I bet he’s hungry, too.”
“Yes, I am!”
“I made you a sandwich,” I said, handing him the bag.
“Oh, that is wonderful. You are just fantastic!” He smiled a mouth full of straight, white teeth and looked directly into my eyes.
I reached up and touched his shoulder. “You are also fantastic.”
He had dark brown hair with a little bit of gray showing up, very dark eyes -- nearly black -- and they were a little red. My ego wanted to think I had choked him up a little, but I hadn’t. It was just a sandwich.
His beard stubble was probably two to three days old. His heavily layered clothing was dingy. He stood on the sand in front of me with a green sweater draped over one shoulder like a cross-body strap. The ends of the sleeves were knotted at his chest keeping everything tightly bound. His shoes had a couple of holes in them, but they matched. No socks though. On a cold, wet day like today, no socks.
“Do you have a blue heeler?”
“Oh, I had... I was… I’m a dog trainer. For twenty years! Danny the Dog Trainer.”
“Okay,” I said. “So tell me what I need to know about blue heelers.” I sat down on the concrete under the protection of the structure’s roof. He put the bag of food down beside his belongings and kept standing out in the open, on the sand.
My better instincts were right. He was a kind person, and very knowledgeable about dogs. We talked for at least a half an hour while the mist around us turned into a sprinkle. I was seated under the awning, but he wasn’t. I kept wanting to usher him under the shelter to stay dry. Again: me trying to be a hero where no action was needed. During our chat we learned that we are almost exactly the same age, and agreed we both look terrific!
A couple of times he started to tell me why he was here as he motioned to his pile of blankets. Of course I wanted to know why he had no home, how long he’d been living under the awning, how did he shave, and did he have a phone? But when he would start to explain those things, the vibe felt weird, like I was interviewing him for a job, or he was defending his value.
When I noticed this, I stopped him and said, “You don’t need to justify yourself or your situation. You’re doing what you can.”
“People will go out of their way to be mean to me or ignore me. And it takes more energy to be angry than kind.”
He had collected a bunch of yellow flowers and a piece of driftwood to decorate his deck space.
I said, “A lot of times people who walk around here are wearing headphones.” I wanted to make an excuse for my other neighbors to spare Danny from the indignity of people not wanting to acknowledge him.
“They can still hear me, though.” His speech flowed at a calm pace, not rushed and not lackadaisical. “I try to give them the benefit of the doubt. The last guy who beat me up I think was in a really bad situation. It wasn’t me.” He told me these things as if he were talking about taking a trip to Target or the market.
When our conversation came to a natural pause, I stood up to go. I told him there were homemade cookies in the bag which brought out the brightest smile he’d had so far. We had a big hug and he said, “Oh, you are wonderful. I love you. I’ll see you again, but not forever.”
I didn’t ask Danny what he wanted or needed. Because after talking with him for just that short time I realized it is none of my business! I don’t ask other people what they need from me when we’re just talking. Prior to our conversation I thought I was so caring and kind to smile at people who look a mess. But (at least to some extent) I have been de-humanizing them all along, thinking I am better than them and therefore in a position to help them without first making a connection.
Honestly, I have no idea what Danny, or my neighbors in their houses, or anyone else wants or needs unless they tell me. This is true for my family members as well as for every stranger. And yet I spend a lot of time thinking I know best, and trying to control their situations in my mind. But people all want different things and are striving for results that are much different from my goals. Unless I know explicitly, and I am able to help in that way, I can only wish people well, and keep going.
Our rainy day conversation played over in my mind while I ate my lunch alone, inside my warm, idyllic Barbie Beach House. I’ve thought about Danny and looked for him again every day since our visit. But my thoughts about helping others have shifted after taking that time to connect with him on a personal level. Instead of seeing people who’ve slept outside as needing help from me; instead of assuming what I might do to help them, I see another person. A lot of the pressure and guilt I used to feel about this issue was misplaced. I do not have the answers for anyone. I don’t even have many answers for myself! And time spent contemplating what I think people around me should or could do to make their lives better is a ridiculous waste of my energy.
Danny’s life trajectory isn’t my business any more than my life is his business. So, at some point, I had to stop thinking about how I might fix it. I can have empathy for him without feeling guilt. And once that realization clicked, my own life could go on. I went to the store. I talked to my neighbors when I saw them in the alley. I answered my emails, and thought about other things.
Newsy stuff: So many exciting things
I got a piece published!
An edited version of my piece about PMS vs POT was published in The Sun magazine! When I got a copy of the magazine with the letter of congratulations in the mail I cried real tears of joy and pride! Here’s a link but there may be a paywall. My piece is in the “Readers Write” section and starts with “After having…”
Wow. Danny the Dog Trainer helped us with Finn 4 years ago. I will keep an eye out for him. Thank you for writing about your encounter and thanks for being kind. I love you!