Remnants of a Beauty
But for the grace of God go I.
This entry was posted in alcohol, Beauty, Culture, grace, humanity, New York City, women, writing and tagged Asking for alms, Compassion verses judgment, drug addiction, riding the New York subway, The homelss in New York City. Bookmark the permalink.
Susannah, you are able to look past the exterior and see the beauty that once was. I wonder if that poor soul is able to remember her happier days. How sad.
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She truly is at best, a facsimile of her former self. Skin and bones. Scarred. It just breaks your heart Skinny because she wasn’t always that way. Where did she veer off the road. How does it happen. I was a survivor who clearly had someone watching over me. But why doesn’t she? Sigh
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A thoughtful post, Susannah. When I lived in the NYC metro area scenes like this would break my heart. I justified handing out money with the idea that maybe some of these folks were angels. To the point of getting mad, I remember coming out of the Carnegie Deli with half a sandwich. Like you, I had no small bill cash so I offered the sandwich. The guy threw it on the ground and berated me for being so stupid. “I can’t drink a sandwich you asshole,” pretty much stuck in my mind. After that, I always kept one-dollar bills in my pocket when coming into the city. If some were angels it was well worth the contribution.
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It’s common to irritate the homeless and the needier they are, the more apt it will happen. I’m often called names living in an affluent neighborhood since it’s assumed I’m one of the swaggering rich. I’m often asked how can I live here? I don’t know, but when I leave New York I’m truly a fish out of water. Thanks for adding to the piece. 🙏
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There is big comfort in having familar surroundings. I loved New York. Of course, living in CT allowed me to enjoy it without having to face day to day trials.
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I get that originally being from there. I remember though eons ago, commuting always aware how the air changed when you crossed the New York, Connecticut line. 🙂
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Hahaha. There were a lot of changes at that line.
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Yes there were.
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I can imagine the beauty of a kid that had been stolen away to the depths of addiction in the way you write her, and its heart numbing.
Reminds me of the baby- because nineteen . . she was- a good friend of mine tried to save. She got her into one of the houses she had opened but it didn’t take. Things did not end well.
There but for the grace . . .
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It’s a very common tale, those that didn’t make it, or didn’t take as you do so aptly put it. I remember a girl in high school…Cindy Toten was her name. Tiny and gamin to a fault who ODed. I can still see her in her coffin like a sleeping doll. She was 17. Have many stories such as this that for some sad reason stay fresh. 😔
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Beautifully written. I can’t imagine their stories, and the fact she accepted your offer with a smile is very touching. Cheers to your kindness.
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I wish I had had, more to give her Frank. Have missed you. 😉
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Your heart impresses me!
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Maybe I should leave it to science. As a non sequitur…speaking of hearts, lore has it that, Joan of Arc’s heart refused to burn. Did you get a chill Frank?
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Leave it to lore for a lasting chill. All well with you?
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Yeah, one day at a time for me.
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Keep smiling and your sense of humor!
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You know where I’d be without my sense of humor Frank? In the nut house, that’s where.
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… and your warm heart helps!
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That’s it. I’m leaving myself to science, or maybe The Smithsonian. 🙂
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Perfect!
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I’ll expect to see you at the American wing. I’ll make sure to wave.
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So true … thank you for this sensitive, painful, thoughtful post about the realities we pass by – and some of us train ourselves to not see or not notice or not try to understand – in the city every day. It is always a heartache for me. I’ve given money. I’ve given food. I’ve asked someone if they wanted me to buy them something to eat so they can sit INSIDE the cafe and get warm on a winter day. Most people are glad for human connection. Like we each other. Not pity or shaming, but understanding and compassion without judgement. I don’t know what led them to what led them to this. I know that – like you – with all I’d been through and the turns some things could’ve taken, it could’ve been me. Thank you for your humanity.
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I’m very touched by this. Humanity. Sometimes it’s feels like I have too much. You see yourself so often through others. To have to panhandle just to hopefully make it through one more day. The city is exploding with souls like her. The mentally ill. Kids sleeping on sidewalks with their dogs they’d never leave behind. My heart that’s already held together with epoxy breaks a little more every day. Sigh
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I hear you. I SO hear you!
And it is a battle, because while my heart breaks every day for them, and it can feel like too much to notice and be in the presence of and let in the reality of so much suffering and despair and need and lost-souls and loneliness and isolation and trauma … I also don’t want to shut it off. It will feel worse to shut it all off. To become numb to it. The cost of THAT is too high, too. So it is a balance – to know and not dissolve into misery, to see but not be undone, to help where I can. To be as human as I can. Thank you for your humanity, again. Na’ama
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I recall an essay Anne Lamott wrote about visiting India and it’s extreme poverty. I’m afraid that’s where New York is headed. We’ll have the same sub culture we’ll become immune to, like in New Delhi where they gather like pigeons as you walk down the street. Sounds dramatic I know. So hope I’m wrong.
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I hope you are wrong, too!
The chasm between the haves-more-than-they’ll-ever-need and have-nots is certainly growing.
I’ve declined going to India because I didn’t think I could manage the poverty there. The children, especially, but generally, the level of despair. Even amidst the beauty. I didn’t believe I could do it.
I had not, yet.
I hope that New York isn’t heading to that … because it would be awful. And I don’t know that I would be able to tolerate that … In fact, if it ever does happen, I hope I would not be able to tolerate that … and would be among those doing what they can to fight it … for I would no longer be myself if that happened … Sigh.
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We shall hope and pray for better things.
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Amen to that! 🙂
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In your beautiful way, you gave that woman her humanity for a moment. It feels like there are more and more like her who have fallen through society’s cracks for whatever reasons. If only we could save them all.
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Fallen through society’s cracks despite its meaning is truly poetic. We all come into the world innocently, soft and pure. When does it change for a person like her. Was she abused as a kid? Ignored? Pain drives you to drugs to that excess. It’s no longer recreational. It’s as if the devil becomes your mentor and dealer as if you signed on the dotted line, in blood. Sigh
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I have my moments 😉
Now, seriously, yes, we all come into the world as blank slates. There are so many potential factors, including the one of being stupid and trying “just for fun”, not knowing that one try is enough to hook you.
And yes, the devil does come in and make you sign on that damned dotted line.
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She had cheekbones like a Swedish model, now gaunt and sunken, Pompeiian, if you will…ruins uncovered. sigh
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Oh man… poor thing.
Ruins uncovered… add that to the phrases you and Marc are collecting.
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You don’t do so bad either madam. Blogging if nothing else, makes us better writers. Stuff comes to the surface as if we were archeologists. My two cents.
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Oh I do have my moments, agreed. I have been told my writing has evolved and I can see it occasionally myself.
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Practice makes perfect. 🙂
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This is so very true!
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This is a very sad portrait, not just of an addict, but of a society that just can’t get motivated to deal with the problems leading to this. In the Netherlands we did not see this sort of thing at all. They have a strong safety net for all citizens, even providing a living stipend. They house the homeless and presumably treat the addicted.
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The trouble here is, many prefer living on the streets outside of society. You can’t make anyone do anything they don’t wish to do. There are so many mentally ill people roaming around, it’s sadly becoming commonplace. You hardly notice anymore since they’re there every day like living landmarks. It’s just awful and I’m afraid will get much worse before it gets better if it ever gets better.
We live in a every man for himself world now, and well, will it change Eilene? I really don’t know.
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I agree that American society was initially all for rugged individualism, and it has transformed into selfish greed and indifference. But Americans are also lauded for friendliness and helpfulness. Lately, I’ve despaired that we’re veering the wrong direction. As for the people you mention, there is probably no turning it around. But stuff like this doesn’t help: https://www.nytimes.com/2019/10/27/opinion/hra-nyc-abuse.html?te=1&nl=david-leonhardt&emc=edit_ty_20191028?campaign_id=39&instance_id=13428&segment_id=18304&user_id=6d8987306594a33fd1c0aa70172dfc74®i_id=77103868
I believe prevention is more effective a solution than intervention, which is why the myriad ways we’re failing children in America points to a continuation of the social ills we see today. I have no solution, but hope that a more compassionate society is on the horizon. It may take two or three generations to manifest, though.
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What you’re sadly saying is, we’ll never see it. But we can still be examples.
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We absolutely should be! It’s really the only way change will come about. Kindness and love beget kindness and love.
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I agree. Like Mr. Gandhi said, be the change you want to see.
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You are the angel in the city. I think God sent you to see and feel and respond. You strum those chords in us who read your beautiful posts.
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You know there, Mrs. Wordsmlth, you might becoming just a tad biased, not that I mind. 🙂
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I’m very biased when thinking of my special friends.
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On the bias. Oh, a sore attempt at your wonderful wordplay.
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A winning pun, for sure!!!! It was certainly more than sew-sew.
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No threads hanging? Is that what you mean?
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Never think ill of someone…you don’t know what fight they are fighting. Here you do, so you are able to feel compassion. My hope is that I get to the point in which I feel compassion for everyone.
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It’s not who your heart doesn’t open for, it’s for the ones it touches. Humanity often sleeps. We’re only who we are. You know what they say about saints? They were sinners who kept in trying. 🌹
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Bless you, Dear!
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We take all blessings here at athingirl.com
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Yes. You are a stitch.
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Please don’t drop me. That’s all I ask
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Is that a purl of great value? [I don’t know much about knitting, but I think knitters speak of dropping a stitch. I would never drop you.]
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Maybe you’d drop me a line, since I’m a purl of a girl and all. 🙂
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I don’t think I’m mentally up to dropping anything for fear it would break. You win this round.
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Not so fast. Since when do I win in your wonder of wordplay!!! You must be humoring me. As for breakage, most things bounce a bit before they shatter. 🙂
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You won fair and square. You are an impeccable wordsmith yourself. If I fall down, I wonder if I’ll feel the bounce before I shatter.
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You’ll be surprised at how many things bounce and never break. Just ask my phone. It’s deserves a Purple Heart. 🙂
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LOL! Poor phone!
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You’re so funny.
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Good question. HMM
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This really resonated with me. I also live in NYC and often wonder what the story is behind the countless homeless people I encounter every day. Beautifully written, thank you!
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Makes me sad, and as you know, the problem increases. I can’t walk to the train without 5 people approaching me. Guilt jumps on board. Thank you.
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