Homelessness is a Problem and a Half

There are over 32,000 homeless people living in the New York area according to the NYC Dept of Homeless Services. I wonder what percentage of these people are actually homeless…

Half of them sit useless on the sidewalk holding out a tattered old cup hoping for a couple coins; others are dancing and singing on the subways and streets for a few dollars an hour; and a few walk the streets begging for whatever we want to give them.

I find it hard to give; only because I see the same people day after day holding out that cup in the same exact spot. I hear the same songs echoing through the subway walls. And the worst of them all…I get the same reaction every time I offer food instead of money, “No, I’ll just ask someone else.”

And, it’s not just what they say that makes me do a double take, it’s that they say it in a rude way. Are they really that ungrateful or are they just trying to get money for whatever leisure they might enjoy (i.e. crack, cocaine and crap)?

A lady came up to me yesterday when it was pouring rain, she was crying, she was frantic about getting home to “Westchesta,” she was begging for anything. As soon as she said “Westchester,” I knew she was going to turn down food; she just wanted money. Why? There’s no way she’s from Westchester, stuck in the city, and trying to get back home. First of all, it cost $2.25 on the train to get up there. Second, there are no homeless people in Westchester.

I just happened to be going into the Health Food store we were standing right in front of, so I told her,“I’m not going to give you money, but I’m going into this store right now if you want anything.”
“Do they have chicken and biscuits??”
“No, it’s a health food store.”
“Do they have chips?”
“No, but they have protein bars and smoothies and bread and yogurt…”
“It’s ok, I’ll ask someone else.” (tears desist).

All I could say was “Really?!!?” Everyone is a damn actor in this city.

I don’t know what the world is coming to? Not only do I have to ask for a credit report and blood test from every man I meet, but now I have to ask the homeless people for their paperwork from the shelter before giving them money or food.

It’s New York; expect to be lied to, manipulated, used and pissed on before you exit the island.

Every Morsel Counts

The summer days were amazing. The hours were full of beautiful lively trees blowing in the sweet breeze, lush green grass and the thick scent of flowers and sunscreen. New Yorkers basking in the hot, hot sun scattered like raindrops all over the Great Lawn playing football, throwing Frisbees and reading magazines…all in a summer’s day. Tourists took over the city in troves and locals left to the Hamptons for their much needed escape from the heat on those extra hot weekends.

The fall has a special allure. Brisk walks don’t feel so hard with the thinning air. The leaves are yellow or orange, even red. Every gust of air seems to have 400 leaves floating down escaping life stuck on the branches, to fall to the sidewalks creating a crispy cover for New Yorkers to walk upon and kick up. The tourists have escaped the city before the most beautiful time of year. The locals can’t help but enjoy the peacefulness the change in the trees provides and the Hamptons are deserted for life among concrete and trains until next summer rears its dreadfully gorgeous head again.

All of this is true about New York; at least that’s what I’ve heard. I remember a couple days like this. But as far as details, it’s all hear-say. See, for most of the summer, I was stuck in bed typing along on my computer hoping for a glimpse of the guy I called my boyfriend, who lived an hour and a half away. I was neglecting my job search, I was neglecting my aspirations, I was sad and lonely. I thought it was all part of the transition of moving to a new city. I wasn’t really thinking about enjoying the seasons, I was only thinking about this man and me, and making it work. I don’t think I have ever cried as much as I did this past summer. I needed my friends more than ever. I needed a life outside of him, but couldn’t make it happen. I was pathetic, I was sad, I was ridiculous. I don’t usually admit I regret anything; I’m one of those “I don’t regret anything cause I learned from it” kind of people, but I regret letting myself feel so sad and lonely.

As New York approaches the end of fall, I have finally got to enjoy the weather and get out of my bed ridden computer funk. Running through Central Park in the fall is more beautiful than I could have imagined. The trunks of the trees seem so dark and cold with their hard black exterior. But as I look up and into their outstretched bodies among the man-made forest, I see the bright yellow leaves clinging on for dear life. I see squirrels frolicking so freely among the branches hoping the acorns don’t disappear too quickly as their very existence rests on savoring every last morsel. And, as I jog along, I realize my life is very similar to the squirrels; I’m free to do whatever I wish, and if I have to grab every small piece of hope from the trees as I can, I will make it through the winter and perhaps make it the life I always wanted. And I’m grateful for every morsel.