Does the word ‘homeless’ ever, involuntarily, set off images of lanky druggies, filling you driver’s seat window? or of men conked out on a bench, dirt-faced? or of average, bag-laden people in a concrete corner, who perhaps enjoy arguing loudly over a good game of football?
Me too.
It’s a beautiful Good Friday. I drive to the white-brick building I’ve been loving in so much. Scooted behind the counter, like every week. Then Michael approaches to ask for coffee.
I haven’t seen Michael since I talked to him in November. He looks pretty much the same—sinewy, dark-skinned, white-bearded. Tired. Like any good friend, I go over and we catch up for a while.
I would never have thought this possible: with a homeless person, one of the most intellectually engaging conversations I’ve ever had. In November, we talked about his personal stories and his future goals. Today, we talked about life.
- He listens to NPR regularly, almost constantly. His favorite program is ‘Here And Now,’ but he enjoys all of them because they’re so informative. He actually goes to sleep by listening to previously-aired programs. “It teaches me about what’s happening even on the other side of the world,” he said. “Makes you realize that what you’re going through? Temporary. You can get through it. There’s always someone worse-off than you.” We talked about journalism and admired/nerded out over NPR’s commitment to pursuing stories so in-depth, bringing stories that teach something of perspective to listeners.
- Greatness. What is tenacity, what does it mean to be great? I brought up East of Eden, by John Steinbeck. MICHAEL HAS READ EAST OF EDEN BY JOHN STEINBECK. I had a minor ecstatic freak-out. I talked a little about the part where Samuel and Adam are talking, and Samuel had early-on chosen not to be great, but his son is currently going through the choosing between normalcy and a lonely success—“What a father it would take to condemn his son to greatness!” Michael had interpreted the idea of ‘condemning to greatness’ to mean setting expectations for others. “I can condemn you to greatness, but it’s your choice whether you make something to exist.” I agreed: you can want something so badly for others, but it’s ultimately their choice whether they run with it. And on the reverse, it’s up to us to decide what to do with people’s expectations of ourselves.
- So—freedom. He always tells people, when they ask him what he’s been up to: “Staying free.” Freedom to him means the ability to continue making those choices to run with things or not—to make things into existence or not. So freedom to him means staying out of trouble. “It’s a full-time job,” he said, serious.
- Etc. etc. etc.
I learned about existence today, and I’m glad I made myself go to MP instead of sleeping in. Conversations can be so valuable to both parties involved. And so I’m thinking about the people I think dumb, and I’m in awe of the fact that at least one man likes to think. Even when struggling with crises and temptations in physical life, it’s possible to nurture a kind of intellect. Homeless people can be smart too! And housed people can be dumb too! It goes to keep proving that every person is different, has his/her own stories and habits. I know, I know. I know that, but I never cease to be surprised.
Sitting across from a black homeless man, talking about the meaning of greatness. Him encouraging me sincerely to be courageous. For the first time in a while, I was struck between the eyes by the unusualness of the situation—becoming friends with a stranger so poor he can’t afford to live in a house. I think it struck me so hard because in talking to him, I did briefly forget the ‘poor’ part, the ‘homeless’ part. I was engaging in critical conversation with a person whose company I enjoyed. So it’s possible to move past mere pity and into a more real friendship—a friendship where you recognize the person’s situation and help where you can, but can also talk to the person as a person. Like if your friend’s parent gets cancer. It’s a tricky situation, but the love is worth it, if you spend enough time.
Chao,
Isabella – 4/15/17
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