The man smiled very warmly at me and he said proudly, "I'd like to introduce you to my wife, Laverne."
Laverne was beaming at me and then she said, "Yep, I'm his wife, Laverne, just like the TV show 'Laverne and Shirley', and my husband's name is Raymond, just like 'Everybody Loves Raymond'! We're quite the pair!".
Since I am a fan of simple humor (such as knock-knock jokes) that might elicit eye-rolling from those who can only find the funny in more sophisticated comedy, I chuckled at this one and suddenly the three of us were in a grinning contest. We chatted for a couple minutes and then I walked away, happy to have met them.
I was bewildered by Raymond and Laverne. They were as friendly as can be, as seemingly normal as any couple that you might meet. What I had just given to Raymond, he immediately and graciously gave to his wife. Unfortunately, what I gave him was a measly granola bar.
Even more unfortunate is the fact that they are homeless.
I didn't glean any clues from our conversation that could explain the mystery of their situation. I didn't ask probing questions or tell them to get a job already and they didn't complain to me or ask me for money or make me feel uncomfortable. Maybe one or both of them are struggling with substance abuse, maybe they lost their jobs, maybe they're not very bright, maybe they're mentally unstable...who knows. Maybe they were just like us until they couldn't stay above water anymore. When we see homeless people begging for money, it's easier for us to assume that they are lazy or shake our heads about their assumed addictions and keep on walking rather than entertain the preposterous notion that they could be similar to us in any way.
I do know a couple things about Laverne and Raymond. When I met them, their eyes were clear. They were extremely grateful, and they each told me how much they appreciated what I gave them. I was embarrassed and mumbled something about how I was sorry I only had one and they tried to make me feel better, saying that every little bit helps. They put me at ease with their polite and easy-going banter.
To give you some background as to how this came to pass, I use the bus for my work commute in the warmer months of the year. In the colder months, I park on one side of one of the rivers and walk over a bridge or take a shuttle, depending on the weather. I started to notice that there was a man sleeping on the cement near the bridge, out in the open by the river, with a bunch of blankets around him. Then I noticed more blankets, more piles of people, and this was how I eventually came into contact with my sitcom couple. Sometimes as many as five or six piles, but usually just two. What were they doing there? Isn't there a shelter they can go to? Are those shelters filled to capacity and turning people away? How could they get any rest on the cold concrete?
I'm like most people and I dislike being cold. Except I hate it so much that I bundle up like I'm going into a blizzard even if I'm just walking very briefly from one heated place to the next. I'd wear a snuggie over my coat if it was socially acceptable. I take a shuttle because I can't stand a ten minute walk which could be invigorating and (gasp!) even good for me. So then I imagine how the homeless must feel in the bitter cold, and I hate thinking about it...so...it's easier to just NOT think. Thank God that we've had a mild winter.
I was afraid to go up to Laverne and Raymond. What if they were rude? What if they got angry? What if they demanded money? Was this a safe thing to do? Don't worry Mom and Dad, I approached them with one hand on the granola bar and one hand ready with the pepper spray in my pocket (which felt very silly after I met them).
On the way home that night, I was relieved and happy and ashamed and sad and encouraged all at the same time. I stopped at a gas station and I bought a loaf of bread. The next morning, I made two PB&J sandwiches to bring for them... except it wasn't enough. With anxiety, I saw that there were five piles of blankets the next morning. Everyone was covered up. How would I know which blanket pile housed my two new friends? Did it matter? Why didn't I think to make more sandwiches? What if they have peanut allergies? I didn't know what to do... so I just took a guess and placed the bag near one of the piles. The man heard me and flung back his blankets with an angry stare. I told him I was dropping off food and then I ran off, cowardly for some reason, before he could say anything. I hope he shared.
I'm not telling you this so I can pat myself on the back for doing two semi-slightly good deeds. If I was trying to do that, it would have made sense to actually do something that is notable and praise-worthy instead of giving them a lousy half-lunch that most adults don't even typically eat.
I'm telling you about Operation Granola Bar and his ambitious buddy Operation Peanut Butter and Jelly because I want suggestions on how else to help. Are there other Operations that I could do? What if every day someone tried to help someone else out, even if it was through something as small as a granola bar?* What is a good volunteer organization that I can link up with? What to do? I'm also writing this down so I don't forget my experience and this desire to help... because I should help. I have the ability, the time, and the patience (that last part is debatable at times but I'm certain I could manage). Aside from trying to learn how to play the piano, I need another really good excuse as to why I'm not writing "my novel" which is about as fictional as it can get.
As much as I like to complain about my inability to fold sheets properly or the fact that I can't sleep sometimes ... at least I don't have real problems. We all take pride in our homes... where we pass our time with friends and family, maybe dreaming about plans for a future home someday or thinking back to memories in previous homes... but what if we didn't have one? How would that feel?
Laverne and Raymond are real people. And they are really nice. And I hope and pray that they are not really cold somewhere right now.
* The importance of kind words should never be underestimated.
P.S. I read an article awhile ago that got me thinking.. the embedded link here is from a real writer (my definition of "real writer" = one who writes consistently, esp. one who gets paid to write) with the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette. I don't know what the author typically writes and I don't know what his politics are (nor do I care, uggghhhhh politicssss, election year, blech), but this article made sense to me... so therefore you are subjected to it in this post.
P.P.S. In case you were wondering, I continue to look for Raymond and Laverne and unfortunately I haven't seen them since. I hope they have been able to get off the streets. I hope their absence isn't indicative of the fact that I must be an incredibly lousy PB&J assembler. :(
