the grinch
When it comes to giving handouts to the homeless, I have to admit, I’m kind of a Grinch.
Since moving to Portland, I’ve found that the city, like many cities on the west coast but more so, is exceedingly helpful, tolerant and generous to its considerable homeless population. The affordable housing program is doing so well, it’s being duplicated in other cities. The town turns a blind eye to a squatter’s village inside the city limits. And everywhere you go, you’ll find citizens of the rose city communing for homeless rights. Yay for us.
But when it comes to spanging, I don’t help out at all. I don’t give anything to anybody. At some point I decided that if I give money to some people, but not to others, I’ll never know which ones to choose. Which ones to say no to. So instead of saying yes to all, I say no- to everyone.
I wasn’t always this way. In college, with each visit to the Bay area, I warmly greeted the homeless people (who correctly surmised I was just off the turnip patch), and handed out change as freely and as often as it was asked of me. I even used to engage many of the homeless people I encountered, asking them where they were from or what war they’d served in.
But I don’t do that anymore. There are an overwhelming number of homeless people in Portland asking passers-by for change, going through the recycling bins and hanging around the bus stop asking people for cigarettes. And these days, I don’t stop to give them money or to shoot the breeze.
In fact, I sort of walk around them.
I know, this probably makes me a bad person. And trust me, I’m lousy with liberal guilt. But almost every time I’ve been asked for money, I’ve just paid my whopping rent check. Negotiated a payment plan for medical bills. Been shocked at the ever-increasing price to heat my little home.
And that seems unfair. Because I do I have a home. Get to go to a cushy doctor’s office to get checked out. Have lots of nice things that many other people don’t have. And with the holiday season close upon us, I feel my stinginess more than ever.
I don’t want to be a Grinch. To be self-involved and to only care that my own needs are taken care of.
But right now, I don’t know any other way to be.
Since moving to Portland, I’ve found that the city, like many cities on the west coast but more so, is exceedingly helpful, tolerant and generous to its considerable homeless population. The affordable housing program is doing so well, it’s being duplicated in other cities. The town turns a blind eye to a squatter’s village inside the city limits. And everywhere you go, you’ll find citizens of the rose city communing for homeless rights. Yay for us.
But when it comes to spanging, I don’t help out at all. I don’t give anything to anybody. At some point I decided that if I give money to some people, but not to others, I’ll never know which ones to choose. Which ones to say no to. So instead of saying yes to all, I say no- to everyone.
I wasn’t always this way. In college, with each visit to the Bay area, I warmly greeted the homeless people (who correctly surmised I was just off the turnip patch), and handed out change as freely and as often as it was asked of me. I even used to engage many of the homeless people I encountered, asking them where they were from or what war they’d served in.
But I don’t do that anymore. There are an overwhelming number of homeless people in Portland asking passers-by for change, going through the recycling bins and hanging around the bus stop asking people for cigarettes. And these days, I don’t stop to give them money or to shoot the breeze.
In fact, I sort of walk around them.
I know, this probably makes me a bad person. And trust me, I’m lousy with liberal guilt. But almost every time I’ve been asked for money, I’ve just paid my whopping rent check. Negotiated a payment plan for medical bills. Been shocked at the ever-increasing price to heat my little home.
And that seems unfair. Because I do I have a home. Get to go to a cushy doctor’s office to get checked out. Have lots of nice things that many other people don’t have. And with the holiday season close upon us, I feel my stinginess more than ever.
I don’t want to be a Grinch. To be self-involved and to only care that my own needs are taken care of.
But right now, I don’t know any other way to be.
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