Christmas jeer
Posted on December 27, 2005 22 Comments
Christmas morning, Brian and I stopped at Dunkin’ Donuts on the way to my parents’ house. Loaded with a trunk of gifts and giddy with Christmas spirit, we just needed a lil’ pick me up at 8:00 a.m. to wipe the sleep out of our groggy eyes.
An adolescent begging for change at the entrance to Dunkin’ caught my eye. He must have been 12 or 13, and as I passed him, I lowered my chin and pretended not to notice. I stepped inside, stopped short and reconsidered immediately. While it’s never good to give people on the street money, I couldn’t help but feel for the boy. It occured to me that one of three scenarios was likely: either his parents knew he wasn’t home and didn’t care (yes, I know it’s possible he doesn’t celebrate Christmas, but in Illinois about 80% of the population is Christian so the odds are, he knows about it), or his parents told him to beg for money on Christmas morning or he doesn’t have parents. All of which made me sad.
So I turned around and asked the boy if he wanted something to eat. Not unexpectedly, he told me he’d rather have money so he could go to the restaurant down the street. I told him that I’d only get him something off the menu, not money, and went back into the line.
A minute later, someone tapped me on the shoulder. It was the boy.
“Excuse me miss,” he said hopefully. “I’ll take a chocolate milk.”
We settled on a chocolate milk and egg crossiant. I studied him. Scars on the face, broken front tooth, torn coat. Baby face, big eyes, skin like the night. He would have been a handsome boy – he probably makes a lot begging. I was careful to keep my wallet close to me as we spoke. I wondered if he studied me too – calculating how much I might be worth. Since I was standing in my pajamas, no make-up and a coat that’s missing a button, he couldn’t have thought too much.
Just as he turned to go back to his spot, a large man smelling of cigarettes and leather stepped between us.
Loudly, pompusly, he began, “Miss. I’m a dective with the Forest Park Police.” His accent was thick with the infamous Chicago “TH” – sounds more like a “D.” (Miss. I’m a detective wid da Forest Park Police…) I wondered if it was a Christmas morning sting aimed at sucking the generosity right out of people who might take pity on teen beggars. Would the mustached detective arrest me on a holiday?
He continued, “Dis man’s been standing outside of Dunkin’ Donuts all morning askin for money. I wouldn’t give him SHIT. But it’s up to you. I’m calling da Force on ‘im.”
I watched the boy question the man and the man yell back at him, as if in slow motion. By now all the patrons were watching our scuffle. How could they miss it, after all? The place is not much bigger than my living room and filled with customers.
I was holding the chocolate milk during the brief encounter, and was in position to order the crossiant when the boy returned to me.
“I’ll just take the chocolate milk,” he said.
Not comprehending, I said, “Wait here. I’ll get you the sandwich.”
“No,” he replied. ” I gotta go. The cops are coming.” With that, he grabbed the chocolate milk.
“You can just tell them you’re buying this,” he said fleetingly. Then, he turned and hurried out.
So much for wanting to do something nice on Christmas morning. On the way to my parents’ house, Brian and I contemplated about the boy. I wondered how such a thing could happen on Christmas day. I was once told that any beggar on the street might be God. If that’s the case, how would he feel about what just happened? Not only was I reprimanded by an authority figure while trying to help, but the beggar himself was also reprimanded by that same figure.
As we drove, I wondered, somewhat naively, how a parent could leave their child to beg for money on Christmas day. I wondered whether one day the boy’s children would be out doing the same. Then I wondered how long it would be before he was in jail – it was pretty clear that he already had some experience with the cops. How does the cycle ever end?
As we pulled into my parents’ house, car filled to the brim with gifts and love, I felt thankful and selfish. I was glad to be with my family and so thankful for our good fortune. But I also knew that we had more than enough happiness, love and gifts to go around.
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22 Responses to “Christmas jeer”
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December 27th, 2005 @ 7:47 pm
That is a very touching story. It makes you realize what you have and what others don’t. It also makes you question the morality of everyone invloved, especiall the police officer. You did the right thing by trying to help!
December 28th, 2005 @ 2:43 am
I agree. I live in a small city, so I would tend to be very trusting of the boy, but I imagine that living in a big city, the police officer has seen many things that may make him cynical. That’s sometimes what gets them through. But I would have done the same thing you did…only I probably would have just given him the money. Merry Christmas to you…what an experience!
December 29th, 2005 @ 2:39 am
Good for you – you never know how a small gesture such as that chocolate milk might make a difference. Have you ever read “The 5 People You Meet in Heaven” (I think that’s the correct title) by Mitch Albom? The slightest human contact can change a person’s life. And don’t feel selfish about what you enjoyed on Christmas with you family – you are blessed and yet gave to another whom others probably ignored. Have a wonderful New Year’s!
December 30th, 2005 @ 1:44 am
“I studied him. Scars on the face, broken front tooth, torn coat. Baby face, big eyes, skin like the night.”
Ok, so he was black, but was THAT description really necessary. Completely negates your good deed IMHO.
December 30th, 2005 @ 2:20 am
Nice story. There is a way out of jail and poverty, but the tough part is it relies on all of us being willing to chip in. My limited experiences with mentoring young teens has shown that a lot of them need support and guidance, not always having the benefits of a stable and loving family that some of us have. The question really is if we are willing to take that sympathy and do something about it. Monetary giving’s popular because it’s easy, but are we willing to extend ourselves out of our comfort zones to make a difference?
December 30th, 2005 @ 1:34 pm
Very nice thing you did!!!! Would you do that again? Or was that just a good deed for Christms? It could happen to anyone being helpless. Anyway you will be blessed for that.
December 30th, 2005 @ 5:47 pm
Thank you for this post. It brings up some important issues that people need to consider, and then act on.
If that boy is begging on christmas day, then he is begging every day. So, the opportunity to really help him will always be there. More than anything, people like him need stable people in their lives, providing guidance and a good example, if he is to make any improvement in his situation.
Blessings to you. I’ll link this story to my blog, unless you say otherwise.
Kevin
December 30th, 2005 @ 9:35 pm
A word to anonymous:
“…but was THAT description really necessary.”
If his skin had been wrinkled and weathered, I’d have said it was like leather.
If his skin had been pale, I’d have called him a ghost.
If his skin had been pockmarked, I’d have said it looked like the moon.
If his skin had been tan, I’d have said it was like the sand.
If his skin had been blue, I’d have said it was like the sky.
If his skin had been brilliant, glowing, neon green, I’d have said it reminded me of the summer.
If his skin had purple polka dots with plaid undertones, I’d have said his skin looked like the circus.
It’s writing. It’s descriptive. Without using a similie, his skin was smooth, dark brown and slightly porous with scars on the cheeks and slightly lighter highlights on his cheekbones.
I was describing the boy’s face. Why should I leave it out? It’s not like I made the story up. I’m white and my skin at the present time “looks like death” because it’s winter and I’m pasty. Or I can say it “looks like an eggshell” because it does in texture and color.
I have a feeling you don’t care about this response, but I do. I wasn’t writing to share a “good deed” because IMHO, chocolate milk is far from it. What that boy needs is a family that cares deeply about his well-being, authority figures who offer guidance and support, outlets where he can exercise his impulses in creative ways and much, much more, including a proper school system, a stable household income, love and acceptance. I can’t offer him any of those things, and that is the point of my story.
December 30th, 2005 @ 10:10 pm
“skin like the night…”
Good for you, Nicole! I just glanced over that description because the whole point of your story was what you were doing, not the color of the boy’s skin. But it obviously hit a nerve with someone else, and that’s their problem, not yours. If that one comment negated your good deed in their opinion, then they missed the point completely.
God bless you, and I’ll pray for you, the boy, and the person who was offended by your innocent remark.
December 30th, 2005 @ 11:16 pm
“Skin Like The Night” means a whole different thing than indicating his race. That phrase could as easily be a reference to a white person.
“Night” connotates, among other things, the unknown/unseen, a mystery, something undefinable.
Good prose.
January 2nd, 2006 @ 1:10 am
Wonderful story… wonderful writing!
You seem to be a highly sensitive person. I am as well. Thus, it seems that we get outselves into situations where we feel absolutely helpless about the enormity of the problem being beyond our ability to make a meaningful difference.
Rest assured that the only way the world will get better is through one person at a time. You DID make the world a little better. It seems that that is all we can do or expect.
Phil
January 2nd, 2006 @ 4:06 pm
Nicole,
Wonderful and thought provoking story. Don’t let anyone who is hyper sensitive on race bother you. There is so much meaning to be found in that story that dwelling on any one word is missing so many points.
I live in Nashville and happened to do a search on blogs this morning and found Kevin thehomelessguy’s blog and the link to your blog. What a find all the way around. I grew up in a poor neighborhood and was very fortunate to have 2 wonderful parents. I knew kids growing up that weren’t so lucky. You never know what small kindness may have an impact on someone. I know what seemed like small incidents to others had a great impact on my life.
IMHO a prayer for the anonymous kid in Chicago as well as the police officer with the hardened heart is in order. But for a small turn in fate, most of us could have been in either of their places.
January 3rd, 2006 @ 12:54 pm
I remember once about 20 years ago leaving a concert in Liverpool and giving a beggar 50 pence. I got stick from my wife and the fiends we were with. When we got to the bottom of the stairs and tuned into the next street I found a 50 pence coin in the gutter. What a strange feeling.
January 3rd, 2006 @ 2:11 pm
Great Story. Similar thing happened to me as I left a restaurant. A man, soaked, ask if I had any spare change to help him at the bus station. I didnt, all I had was leftovers. I told him I hoped his new year would get better. He said probably not but he took the box, started eating and went on his way. My young niece commented on how he could invest his time finding a job instead of begging. How little she knows of the life of a junkie or someone with mental illness or someone just really down on their luck. I hope she never has to find out and I hope that during 2006 we all take the time to recognize the less fortunate and in a small act of faith, like yours, do something to help.
January 3rd, 2006 @ 9:11 pm
Wonderful story! I live in the twin tiers in NY where 1200 people have been laid off just in the last year. Stories like this could be endless—and yet, we are becoming a society where there is seemingly little concern for our fellow man. People seem to be more interested in taking a story like yours and finding the hidden “politican or racial” agenda to pick apart. The fact that you used such beautiful prose and imagery and someone pounced on it as a racial description only reinforces how highly sensitized we are to the wrong things. Why don’t we all spend more time doing good like this and less time worrying about skin color, sexual preferance, political identity, etc. We could all benefit from practicing random acts of kindness–it would get us and our pathetically deteriorating society a lot farther! Thank you for setting a wonderful example of what one person can do to touch a life–you may never know the extent of that chocolate milk and it’s powerful expression of human compassion.
January 3rd, 2006 @ 10:08 pm
I hate to rain on the parade, but maybe the cop was trying to help you because he knows something about the little angel you don’t?
January 4th, 2006 @ 12:23 am
How sad that some people can’t get past the negative. That “little Angel” comment was unkind…that child, if only for a moment, had the joy of a child (come on, he chose chocolate milk!)and for a brief moment, trusted someone. He has most likely been thru more in his short life than many of us who are older. If more people would reach out, maybe it would eventually circle around the world, and no child would HAVE to beg for change on Christmas day.
January 4th, 2006 @ 1:03 am
I will never forget a sermon from our pastor: “Never question them on the streets, never pass judgement on them, whats a dollar to you”"For I was hungry and you gave me food,I was thirsty and you gave me drink”‘Amen, I say to you, whatever you did for one of the least brothers of mine, you did for me.’
Mt 25:31-46
January 4th, 2006 @ 6:17 am
We were not put on this earth to judge and yet all of us do. I wonder if we were in the boy’s shoes, what length would we go to survive?
And yet many of us say he probably has more money than we do. But the truth is, who cares. We give not for them, but for ourselves, so maybe the world is but a little better place. And frankly that’s the world I want to live in.
January 6th, 2006 @ 9:33 pm
It was said somewhere that God cares not the intention of the person recieving the kind gesture, but rather the intentions in the heart of the person givng it.
I live in metro Atlanta, and my first born(now8) was preemie, and spent 5 months in the hospital downtown, very near to a major hub for the homeless.
Day after day I passed them on my way from the train station, and day after day I would give what I had extra.
On a paticular day a man approached me for spare change. He was obviously tired, haggard, and as it was november, extremely cold.
Right next to the hospital that I went to everyday for five months is a McDonalds that serves all patrons and medical staff of the hospital and nearby businesses.
They are notorious for shooing the homeless, as they are open almost 24hours they do see thier share.
Instead of giving him change I offered him a cup of coffee inside the McDonalds, and he honestly had fear in his eyes when he told me the staff wouldn’tlet him in, even if he had money.
Not for bad behaviour, but due to the zero-tolerance in this town.
I, being the born rebel from Michigan(ha-ha) told him to enter with me, as all the staff by this time knew me by name.
I walked him in, ,and ordered him a breakfast plate, a large coffee, and an o.j.
I knew I did the right thing when I saw the joy in his eyes, I paid for one more cup for myself, and off I went.
Not before making sure managment knew he was o.k to dine, and telling them it could make for very bad press if I were to email all local tv stations of the actions to possibly be taken.
as far as I know all went well, as I was leaving the NICU that day a few hours later there he was, sitting in the warmth, enjoying a old newspaper someone had left on a table, and still drinking his coffee.
Sometimes , so long as the gesture is purely unselfish, the karma carries.
February 6th, 2012 @ 8:58 am
I just wonder why you think it’s “never good to give people on the street money.” I understand that you may prefer to give food so you know your money isn’t being spent on drugs or alcohol, but not every person on the street is going to use cash gifts for nefarious reasons. I just hate the stereotypical view of beggars and the homeless. They’re people too with individual stories that don’t always revolve around drugs and alcohol.
Another possibility is that the boy lives on the street because it’s a better environment than living at home because of abuse or neglect. Maybe he ran away from home, or maybe his guardian abandoned him. It’s hard to know, but my first assumption wouldn’t be that his parents cared at all where he was if he was out on Christmas morning begging for money.
February 6th, 2012 @ 9:36 am
Wow, it’s been so long since I looked at this post I forgot about it.
Katie- a few thoughts in response. I do give a dollar to homeless people on the street here and there, as well as giving meals and food if I have some left in my bag. I also donate to the Chicago Food Bank and my local church, and have volunteered with organizations here in Chicago dedicated to helping the problem of local hunger. I say that to let you know that this was an isolated incident and the post was a reaction to a situation in that time.
But, to your point about the general view regarding giving money to individuals: we have problems with beggars where I live that go well beyond the individual issues you’re talking about here. It’s a systemic problem that results in violence and more, and therefore a basic rule we’re taught by the police, by city leadership, by people who love us and even by the clergy and non-profit sector is to donate money to organizations that help the homeless vs. donating to people on the street. At that particular intersection, opening your wallet while standing on the street can be very unsafe. Not that boy, per se, but any exchange of cash, even a dollar from your wallet, can leave you vulnerable. My great-aunt was mugged twice at that intersection, so it’s not an urban tale, it’s a reality.
I have many complicated thoughts about our local panhandlers that are wrapped up in a desire to help and a wish for a broader solution to end poverty in our streets. But those impulses have to be tempered by a need for personal safety and the reality that a lot (not all) of our local panhandlers in my neighborhood are regulars with well-documented substance abuse problems that make their living on the street this way. It’s very difficult to do “the right thing” when there are no easy answers.
It might not be the answer you’re looking for, but that’s what I have at the moment.