It was sort of a New York moment.
I was riding the subway, in Toronto, last night at about 9:45 pm. Westbound on the Bloor line, the train had just left the St. George station. Then I hear a gruff woman’s voice behind where I’m standing. She is yelling, “Change! Change!” As I turn around, she is shaking her hand, palm up, with a handful of coins in it. She jingles them under the nose of a seated passenger. “Change?” He mumbles, “No, sorry.” She does it again to a woman sleeping and slumping in her seat. The sleeper continues her slumber, unmoved. The begging woman proceeds to poke the sleeping woman, who is startled awake, looks up to see this scruffy woman asking for spare change. She shakes her head no and goes back to sleep.
The woman turns to me, holds up her hand showing me all the coins and yells, “Change?” I reply, “No thanks.” She moves on.
About half way down the subway car she raises her voice even louder, announcing, “Ladies and gentlemen I’m very hungry. I haven’t eaten for three days. I am living on the street and it is very difficult for me. Please help me, I need money to buy some food.”
A woman reaches from behind me, dumping a handful of coins into the begging woman’s hand. There was no “thank you”, no “God bless you”, no reply, nothing. The begging woman turned away, stood in the middle of the rumbling and rocking subway car and looked through the change in her hand.
To the shock and grins of various observers, including myself, she picked out the pennies and dropped them one by one on the floor of the subway car. Then she dropped a couple of dimes and nickels. She hung on to everything quarter or larger. I looked back at the woman who had given her the handful of coins. I’m not sure what I was looking for; closure to a strange anecdote, perhaps. She looked ashamed.
Ashamed for giving a disturbed, probably homeless woman money? Or ashamed for thinking of getting up and picking up the unwanted nickels and dimes? Not sure.
The strange occurrence reminds me of a trip to New York City in the late 1990s. This was before Giuliani “removed” all the street people. I recall being impressed with one man’s sign: “Need money for booze, drugs and hookers.” I thought it was great because he was being honest; that there was something so urbanely kitchy about it.
So I gave him a handful of pocket change, while a friend snapped a picture (of which I no longer have a copy). The man with the sign then proceeded to pick through all the change I had handed to him and handed back all the Canadian money (which had mixed in my pocket when I had entered the US).
I suppose now even beggars can be choosers.
The woman turns to me, holds up her hand showing me all the coins and yells, “Change?” I reply, “No thanks.” She moves on.
About half way down the subway car she raises her voice even louder, announcing, “Ladies and gentlemen I’m very hungry. I haven’t eaten for three days. I am living on the street and it is very difficult for me. Please help me, I need money to buy some food.”
A woman reaches from behind me, dumping a handful of coins into the begging woman’s hand. There was no “thank you”, no “God bless you”, no reply, nothing. The begging woman turned away, stood in the middle of the rumbling and rocking subway car and looked through the change in her hand.
To the shock and grins of various observers, including myself, she picked out the pennies and dropped them one by one on the floor of the subway car. Then she dropped a couple of dimes and nickels. She hung on to everything quarter or larger. I looked back at the woman who had given her the handful of coins. I’m not sure what I was looking for; closure to a strange anecdote, perhaps. She looked ashamed.
Ashamed for giving a disturbed, probably homeless woman money? Or ashamed for thinking of getting up and picking up the unwanted nickels and dimes? Not sure.
The strange occurrence reminds me of a trip to New York City in the late 1990s. This was before Giuliani “removed” all the street people. I recall being impressed with one man’s sign: “Need money for booze, drugs and hookers.” I thought it was great because he was being honest; that there was something so urbanely kitchy about it.
So I gave him a handful of pocket change, while a friend snapped a picture (of which I no longer have a copy). The man with the sign then proceeded to pick through all the change I had handed to him and handed back all the Canadian money (which had mixed in my pocket when I had entered the US).
I suppose now even beggars can be choosers.

Found this on the net, thot it was appropriate. "Help me - I am a disabled clone war vet. Need $$$ to build death star."

