I spotted her walking into the parking lot, a lady about 30 years old, ill dressed with an oversized black blouse and black pants that swayed in tandem with the breeze. She might have been pretty but the etched lines on her face told a different story. Sheila and I were sitting in the car enjoying a Dairy Queen Sundae. Ours was the only car parked in that vicinity and the spooky woman was making a bee-line toward it.
She tapped on the window and I opened it. She said, “Do you have a toonie?” I said, “What for?” She said, “To buy my kid an ice cream but I have only 45 cents.” Without a flinch I reached into my pocket and pulled out a handful of change, displaying it on the palm of hand in front of her. There were two loonies and other coins. She was true to her word as she only plucked up the loonies. Without a word, she turned and walked into the Dairy Queen.
We waited until she came out. She had a chocolate covered cone in her hand but there was no sign of her kid or anyone else’s in sight. As she was crossing the other side of the parking lot she made a half-hearted gesture with her free arm. Whether it was meant to convey a thank you or a “goodbye sucker”, I have no idea.
Begging or panhandling is the practice of imploring others to grant them a gift of money, with little or no expectation of reciprocation. I’ve participated in handing out a few coins many times over my life, without guilt or remorse. To some I say I have no change, but to most I am willing to part with it. Each time I do, it creates a feel-good memory in my repertoire of memories. You see, I don’t spend much money on vacations, sporty cars or expensive entertainment. This is an alternative means of enjoyment for me. At times, I always relish contemplating the circumstances leading up to what went wrong in that person’s life.
I recall some years ago when my parents were visiting me in Toronto. We all went out to an exquisite performance at the Ed Mirvish Theatre. Upon exiting, I noticed a teenage girl supporting herself against a pole and obviously seeking a handout. I stopped, the others didn’t. I gave her some money, then caught up. My mother gave me one of her firmest lectures ever, right there on King Street about “giving money to strangers.” Who better to give it too?
While living in Toronto, panhandlers were a dime a dozen in the downtime core. One day a down and outer sitting on a cement step hailed me with, “Hey Buddy, can you spare a little for coffee?” I brazenly sat down beside him and asked where he was from. New Brunswick he said. He revealed his story of rejections and hard times for more than 30 minutes. I listened without judgement and when I stood, I left him with more of a gift than he could have hoped for. It was a win-win situation.
On a bus trip to New York City at the fringe of Times Square, I saw a bag-lady with less bags than normal for most, feebly trying to get passerby’s attention. Even before she branded me, I seized the moment to contribute to her cause. The slightest of grins formed at her crusty mouth as I was walking away.
I am sure people who donate have had some kind of bad feedback from time to time themselves. But keep in mind that many or even most panhandlers either have or have had some type of mental or emotional problems. We use the term “hand out” negatively as if it is bad behaviour and there is something wrong with the person soliciting; begging, pleading and sometimes with barely a whisper to reach out for help. When people are in need, it is human nature that makes us give and hope that we are doing a good deed.
If you’re wondering whether to give money to a person asking for it, don’t do it unless it is from your heart.
