I’m on West 23rd Street by the Chelsea Hotel, 
a favorite spot of mine for its historical, artistic lore. It’s where Patti Smith lived with Robert Mapplethorpe and Janis Joplin and The Ramones danced and dreamed. Arthur Miller and Dylan Thomas both wrote there, and if you want to get dark, it’s where Sid killed Nancy.
That said…
I see a kid in front, all of 25, pale as me with dreadlocks streaming in the wind, packing up his sleeping bags. He has two dogs dressed in his own clothing, waiting patiently for their next move.
I’ve seen him before, way uptown, with one dog who now seems to have only one working eye. He was sprawled on a blanket, reading The Alienist, by Caleb Carr, displaying a sign that mewled in Quaker sentiment…
SOCIETY OF FRIENDS, PLEASE HELP IF YOU CAN
Between the dog in a parka, and that he was reading one of my favorite books, I naturally emptied my pockets.
At least it was warmer then, not like now where he should really be in one of the many city shelters, but what you learn about the homeless is, there’s something very undignified going into one, a cold corner on the pavement, proudly preferred.
I give him the two bucks I have for the 12 step meeting I’m en route to, he needing it more.
His dogs bark as I take out my wallet, protecting their man as they should. After all, he didn’t leave them behind since, no one gets left behind, according to the U.S. Army Rangers.
Yet, this boy strikes me as being fatally forgotten.
He has another book, said he finished The Alienist, and was hoping this one lasted the day. Oh my, a passionate reader, just like me, despite his crumbling circumstances.
If the book in my bag was mine and not the library’s, it would have then been his.
I have nothing else to give, except perhaps prayer, hoping God, who’s been missing in action lately, hears me.
But what really left a mark, was not the one-eyed dog or his chihuahua brother in his much too big, gray-striped turtleneck, but the smile this young lad gave me as I took flight.
Jesus said, “Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers (and sisters) of mine, you did for me.”
Yeah yeah. I hear God bats last. Well, he better hurry up to the plate, that’s all I know, or this soul will be lost.
As I walk away, I’m not thinking of Patti or Dylan, Sid and Nancy, or how the Chelsea
has stood the test of time, or even Jesus for that matter, but this young man and his beloved pets, making their way courageously in the icy cold, along the lonely streets of New York City.
Susannah
My heart breaks for people living on the street especially since it seems like such an insurmountable problem, although one easily enough fixed if society had the will to do it. I’m sure you made his day, still. Every little bit helps.
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It’s 5 degrees here. I’m awake thinking about him and his brethren out on the street. I hope he went to a shelter.
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I wonder about the economics. It would cost a pittance to feed and house everyone, compared to what we spend on say the military or entertainment. Maybe the homeless serve more fundamental purposes: “work hard and don’t rock the boat, this could be you” or “we may not be paying you a living wage, but you’re a lot better off than him”. Or maybe we just have a deep-seated yearning for someone to look down upon. Whatever, I don’t accept that this situation is necessary.
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It’s so cold here. My heart is aching for anyone and anything without warmth. You should see all the dogs. Many people have them by their side with their few possessions. I’m always so humbled having a roof over my head.
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M.K.Gandhi said he thought “Western Civilisation would be a good idea.” How can a multi-trillion dollar civilised society watch someone freeze to death?
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I have no answers. I feel too fortunate to be quite honest. The city is in full flight. It makes one feel less anxious. I hope this freeze is of short duration to use an Austen term. They had only fireplaces, shawls and hand made blankets. The Bennetts, Binglys and Darcys. I will leave you with that.
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It truly make you wonder what his story is. How such a polite and obviously intelligent young lad could end up like this. I wonder why he doesn’t go to social services, where he would get placed in a shelter, given food stamps, and possibly placed in a work program. Thank goodness you gave him reason to smile.
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I’m sure there’s more there than meets the eye. His dreadlocks are a big tip off since he looks right out of the Midwest otherwise. His dogs were obviously adopted or corralled from the street. He’s very well spoken so there is much more to his story. He’s not just a panhandler by trade. Thanks always for showing up on the page Skinny. I appreciate your attendance more than you know. 🙏
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SB,
It’s shameful, the way in which the homeless are a throwaway issue. People, human beings . . thrown away. Because nowhere in this government shutdown was there any mention of the homeless. You think all those monies that are wanted for walls in the world of make believe or the military in the here and now might be better suited for humanitarian purpose? I know, I know . . it’s pie in the sky thinking to the backwards thinkers.
Do all these brilliant decision makers ever think, there but for the grace of God, go I? Or is it that too quaint a notion?
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You’re preaching to the choir on this one. That wall. What about those inside it without homes, heat, hot water. Basics we all have grown to expect. The face of that kid and his dogs haunt me and they’re just the tip of the iceberg, no pun intended unkind as it may reign. Sigh
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Amen.
You made an interesting point about how those in positions of power might frame the plight of the homeless as a cautionary tale.
It made me think of the poem “The New Colossus” by Emma Lazarus, which can be found on a plaque at the base of the Statue of Liberty.
“Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed, to me:
I lift my lamp beside the golden door,”
They might want to add the fine print . . .
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Did you know, she had no idea how famous and important her words became? She died of tuberculosis without ever knowing they graced Lib’s majestic base. Sigh…my mother always called her Lib, like they were girlfriends. 🤭
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Sad.
I must say, you are a real deal tour guide when it comes to NYC.
Lib, I like that.
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My Aunt Tillie lived on Staten Island and we’d ride the ferry to visit her. And my mother who loved The Statue made sure we sat on the right going over and the left, coming back so not to miss her. I was little but remember it well. She’d say, look Sue, the Lady’s waving. Hi Lib…😊
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See what I mean? Me loves your NY stories. And from little Sue to Lady Susannah.
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This particular story tanked. No one read it. Sigh. Oh well. I appreciate that you did. 😉
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I can’t imagine, but I’ve told you I’m hooked on ’em. Whilst trying to veer away from sounding complimentary. 😉
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I always need to remind myself I just love to write whether I hit a grand slam or not. I know I’m not for everyone plus I don’t read many other sites, hence, no following. 😢
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Well, you hit a grand slam all the time. A quick for instance . . here’s a line I re-read a couple times because it hit the literary spot for me, and how.
” . . displaying a sign that mewled in Quaker sentiment . .”
You just do what you do. And please don’t stop
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You’re very kind. Mewl is a word Hicks used once in a letter. I had never heard it before but it’s stayed with me all these years. He loved words too. As far as the piece goes, no one wants to be reminded about the homeless. Sigh… I just write what comes up, and appreciate so much what you said. BTW, Emma died of Tuberculosis not Leukemia.
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It’s a great word. A perfect combination of sophistication and fun.
I dig your style.
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Ok Maynard G. Krebs. 💻
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I deserved that.
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In good fun. I love when you say…I dig, I dig. 🎼🎧🎹
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Of course, I dig, LOL
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*sigh*
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You’re so wordy Anne. I mean, haven’t you heard of editing? 🙂
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I guess I could have left off the ass to risks.
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That’s one of your best Anne. I’m laughing.
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Just being my old, silly self under sad, senseless circumstances. sigh
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I was sure I had commented on this. Must have been one of those “Read it while still in bed but will comment from computer moments”…
Love your exchange with Sorryless. I’m with him on your writing skillz and fabulous stories of New York (funny I wrote about visiting New York just yesterday).
As to the plight of the homeless, it is more than sad. And these frigid temps make me fear for them. Someone, the other day, said ALL churches and places of worship should open their doors at night for them. They all have a story on how they got there. They were once loved and cared for. I do know some make the choice but they are a rarity, of that I am quasi-positive.
Your beautiful soul is showing in your attention to this well-read young man. We need more Susannahs in the world.
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It’s funny you should say that because years ago churches opening their doors to the needy was a given. Now they have armed cops patrolling so no one, a little ripe or unsavory, if you will, can enter. At least on the Upper…up your elite ass…Side of New York. Sigh
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Not just in your neck of the woods. It’s the same story all over. My late husband, back when he was a coke-addict and realised he needed major help, was TURNED AWAY from a church with this: “You’re a mess. There is no hope for you.”
Well.
Every time we passed that church, he’d point and say “those bastards…”
He did turn his life around and he made something really good of himself, no thanks to the “generosity” of the church…
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I’m so sorry to hear he’s no longer. It’s wonderful to talk about him and share with such affection. It’s not easy to turn your life around. Thumbs upward to him, wherever he may be.
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Thank you. He did leave a huge gaping hole four years ago at Christmas. It’s not easy, but it’s life. You know all about that yourself, don’t you?
Not to plug my stuff, but if you wanna have an idea about him and me, you can click the link. but by no means feel obliged and I sure won’t be insulted if you don’t!
https://adelectablelife.com/2014/12/29/a-little-heart-to-heart/
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Just wrote to you. sigh
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😘
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