Gimme, gimme

Saturday was a “first” for me. Ya, I’ve been asked if I had a cigarette I could spare or a “light,” but Saturday was the very first time I saw a beggar on the streets of Picton. Yup. The very first time. A woman of a certain age was sitting on the bench next to the Post Office asking everyone who passed by, “Got any spare change?” Hard to describe her, except to say she just looked like she was enjoying the sun while she sat and watched the world go by.

I was mildly surprised. Not taken aback or flummoxed or floored. Just a bit surprised. I’ve been in the County for almost 40 years and begging isn’t “everyday” here. Like I mentioned, we’ve all been asked for “a smoke” or “a light.” Along with being mildly surprised, the twinge of guilt and soupcon of embarrassment washed over me. Not here. We take care of our community, right? And, I never know what to say when prevailed upon for a handout and have often feigned rooting around in my pockets or purse for spare change and, on many occasions, have had to say, “Sorry, I’m cash-free.” I’ll be honest about the “got no cash” part, I rarely do have cash on me. I, like hundreds of thousands of Canadians, have embraced the world of the debit card and only ever seem to have coins in the rolls-can-hardly, to feed the parking meter. Don’t expect to score anything more than pocket lint with me when you extend the hat or pan.

So, what is it about begging and beggars that makes me feel uncomfortable? Do other people get sweaty when they’re hit up for “spare change”? In other cities (like Toronto and Vancouver), when I’ve been confronted by beggars, I’ve mumbled the “no cash” line but sometimes I’ve actually had spare change in my pocket and been able to help a guy or a gal out. I know my extraneous change isn’t always going toward the purchase of a meal or to help pay the rent. I’m well aware of what happens on the street but a little voice in my head tells me not to judge and a bigger voice tells me to size up the situation before I make a donation. It’s the bigger, internal voice that tells me to ignore the young, well-dressed, healthy looking, freshly turned teens who, while wearing designer clothes, are checking their email or texting their friends. Often these kids have a megabuck dog sitting with them on their megabuck Eddie Bauer or MEC sleeping bag and should probably be in the library working on their “culminating activity.” More than anything, my bigger voice wants to know what they tell their parents when they get home and are asked, “Why didn’t you clean your room?” or “Have you got any homework?” “Did you find everything you needed at the library?” I guess I have a picture in my mind about what “need” looks like. IPhones and Jack Russell terriers, Lululemon and megawatt dental work don’t tip the scales in favour of a handout. And, the little voice says, “But who are you to judge?”

Who am I to judge, indeed. The woman obviously needed to ask for change. I can’t say she looked like my idea of a “person in need” but, I’m working on my judgemental internal voice. Like I said, I’ve given money to people who look like they need it even though I didn’t know what their need was, exactly. To be on a street, looking like you haven’t had a real meal in weeks, and to have put personal hygiene on the very bottom of your list of things to do today, tells me it’s time to dig around for a buck or two. But, that’s my big city behaviour. In the big smoke I carry cash for public transportation, for a quick bite at a street vendor’s truck and for the needy. But the County doesn’t offer public transportation and street vendors are still on the outskirts of town and until Saturday, seeing someone begging on the streets just didn’t happen. I’ve heard the news about food trucks. A woman sat outside the Post Office and begged for spare change. I wonder where the bus stops.

theresa@wellingtontimes.ca