homeless in Memphis – Memphis Flyer

I always face a moral dilemma when approaching an intersection where I see someone with a “Homeless” or “Hungry” or “Anything Helps” sign.

The first thing I feel is pity, sadness. It never fails. And then perhaps to make myself feel better, I begin to wonder if what they’re saying is true. Are they really homeless? If I give them cash, will they use it for food or another necessity or for something else? Drugs, beer?

Occasionally, I will scrape together whatever I can find and offer it to them. But mostly, I avoid eye contact, staring off into space as I anxiously wait for the light to change. There are times when I don’t have any cash or honestly I’m just too wrapped up in my own day to care about anyone else or to make room in my heart for more of the world’s misfortune.

Chainat | Dreamstime.com

And other times, without even knowing a person’s story, I find myself judging. After looking the person up and down, assessing the state of their clothes, the penmanship on their cardboard sign, the look in their eyes, I wonder how they let their lives get to this point. Maybe my judgment is a means to avoidance.

Then for a moment, as I pull off in my climate-controlled car with food, water, and everything else I need perfectly attainable, I feel a certain sense of shame and guilt. I could have helped, but I didn’t. Why? Because I judged someone I didn’t know. Because I was too busy thinking of myself and my problems.

Even on days when I am feeling particularly generous and I’ve offered a dollar or whatever else I have to give, there’s still a feeling of inadequacy as I drive off, moving on with my day and leaving them behind. Nothing I can do in those moments will give that person what they really need — a bed, a warm meal, and a place to call home.

My two dollars won’t drastically change their lives. In the big scheme of life, two bucks is a drop in the bucket of what they really need. But it’s this type of thinking that keeps me and maybe others from doing what they can, when they can, how they can.

And even if a couple of bucks won’t solve all their problems, it is something. If nothing else, it’s an acknowledgement. It acknowledges that they are a real human being who, for whatever reason or because of whatever unfortunate life circumstances they’ve faced, is in a pretty desperate situation.

Whatever the case, as fellow human beings and fellow Memphians, it’s remiss of me and, dare I say, of you, to pass these people on a daily basis without offering so much as a smile. We all can do better.

Memphis has been ranked one of the country’s most philanthropic cities in the past. In 2017, a study from The Chronicle of Philanthropy named Memphis the most charitable city in the country. I wonder though, how much more charitable Memphis would be if we gave without judgment, without apprehension, and without expectations.

There are everyday needs all around us and tangible ways to meet them. There are people literally standing on a street corner right now in the cold, in the rain, in real need. If not a dollar, then buy them a hot coffee or a hot meal or give them a sweater from the bag of clothes you were going to donate anyway. Beyond that, there are a plethora of ways to help out those in need in the city all year-round, but especially now as the holiday season approaches.

Make a meal, deliver a meal, volunteer, tutor, mow your neighbor’s lawn, read to kids, pick up trash. There is something that you and I both can do today. We don’t have to wait until we’re richer or have more time or more energy or more motivation. We can do it now, and we should do it now. Let’s stop staring off into space and begin doing something kind for someone in need. It’ll feel good, I promise.

Maya Smith is a Flyer staff writer.

I was loading a couple of items into my car in the lot at the Midtown Home Depot when a man approached with a bucket filled with what appeared to be a spray bottle, wadded newspapers, and rags.

“Excuse me, sir,” he said. “I’m not begging, but if you’ll let me, I can clean your car windows for you. I’ll make ’em look like new.”

I hesitated, debating whether to give him a buck and wish him the best or let him clean my windows, which were admittedly pretty gross, thanks to my dogs drooling as they rode along, noses to the wind.

“I used to do detail at Bud Davis Cadillac,” he said, closing the deal. “I’ll make ’em look good.”

I was in no real hurry, so I opted to let him do his thing.

It became apparent that this guy took his trade seriously. He sprayed each window inside and out and wiped them down until they were showroom clean. It took him a minute or two to do each window. He didn’t miss a spot, not even the corners.

As he worked, we talked. He told me he’d had his bag stolen two nights earlier while he was sleeping outside. “They took my ID and my extra clothes and my tennis shoes,” he said. “I’m trying to make enough today to eat and get back into a shelter tonight. And get some clothes.”

He was wearing flip-flops, an old T-shirt, and a pair of too-large shorts belted with a rope. He was hard and thin as bone.

“I don’t usually dress like this,” he said. And I believed him, though I know I’m not supposed to believe homeless people’s stories. I know I’m supposed to be cynical, and I’m supposed to know that all they’re really doing is hustling money from me so they can go buy a drink.

I don’t care, honestly. I’d want a drink, too, if I lived on the street and made my living wiping down people’s car windows in parking lots. I’d want a lot of drinks.

That said, I don’t pay much attention to the rotating cadre of sign-holding folks at various stoplights around town. There’s something fishy about that situation — something suspiciously entrepreneurial. And I don’t have a problem blowing off the young, healthy looking guy who stands in front of Walgreens and hits everyone up for change on the regular. I mean, c’mon, man. Again?

But if I think I might be in the presence of a human being who is genuinely down and out, I’ll usually listen and I’ll usually learn something — and more often than not, I’ll give them money. Yeah, I’m a sucker, right? Like I said, I don’t care. Life is short. Help somebody out. It won’t kill you.

The man at Home Depot cleaned my windows like it meant something to him, like he was proud of his work, like it wasn’t a tired hustle. When he finished, I looked in my wallet and saw two twenties and three ones. I gave him a twenty and his eyes went soft, and he said, “Thank you. You don’t know how much I appreciate this,” and I believed him.

He shook my hand and I got in my nice car with its shiny, clean windows and drove off feeling some kind of way — maybe sad, maybe grateful, maybe a little of both.

There are a lot of folks out there who are hurting, broke, homeless — lost souls in the high weeds of life. At a time when many of us are contributing money and food and supplies to help the victims of the recent hurricanes in Florida and Texas, it’s good to remember that there are other people, just down the street in Memphis, Tennessee — blowing in the wind.