An interesting thing happened the other night while my brother Kevin was in town. Before I get into specifics, I have to say I was unsure about whether to write about this because it's funny but also kind of sad, and also one those things where "you had to be there". A picture would say it all, but we didn't have a camera, and I wouldn't want to perpetuate the sadness (for lack of a better word) any further.
We just had a few good beers at Goose Island in Wrigleyville (sorry the website is annoying because it asks if you're 21 years old...whatever), and made a bunch of annoying phone calls to Erin and my Mom. We walked back north on Clark to Addison [click here and look at the "Street View" option: there's a Cubs baseball game just getting out, and you can see Goose Island on the east side of Clark Street at about 3526 Clark], on the way to the Addison Red Line Stop. It was only 9:00 pm - indeed an early night, even for us old people.
About half way between between Clark and the Red Line, we saw a homeless-looking guy dancing around the street ahead, aggressively seeking funding from passers-by. Not unusual. Sometimes in this situation you cross the street just to avoid any confrontation, but we had a few beers in us so it was all good.
As we got closer, we saw the guy was holding a cardboard sign and yelling "Bla...money...blabla...beer"...something. We couldn't understand, but while he lobbied the folks ahead of us he pointed at this sign, sometimes holding it high over his head, sometimes holding it against his chest and pointing at the writing on the sign.
When it was our turn, he stomped toward us, sign in hand, eager, focused, and disheveled, his gray hooded-sweatshirt covered by a flannel shirt with the tails flapping behind him. He had on matching gray, stained sweatpants and construction boots, about half of his teeth, and the curious spark of a used car salesman in his eye - no WAY you can ignore this guy, right? When he reached us, he put on a spellbinding show, spitting his words loudly without yelling. It went something like this "Hey, hey good evenin people. I'm not even gonna mess around. I'm not even gonna do that to ya. I'm not gonna tell ya any lies or stories that just ain't true." He held aloft his sign over his head, for all humanity to see, then brought it down to chest and pointed at the writing:
"NEED MONEY FOR BEER"
With a hospitable but somehow belligerent smile on his face, he continued loudly "I jus wanna beer, that's all. I ain't messin around with ya. Do ya have any money I could get myself a beer with? C'mon now, you know I'm tellin the truth for real...it's Friday night..."
I looked over and saw Keren and Kevin with wide smiles and sensed their appreciation of the guy's predicament. I knew they felt the same way I did. I reflected back on how many times in other cities I had been accosted by people outside liquor stores, asking for food money for their kids that I would later see them use to buy Mad Dog or King Cobra (cheap malt liquor). I had figured that game out quickly, but they had always been a step ahead, ready to serenade me with their life's story and how they needed $2.00 to ride the bus to their sick grandma. I had resolved never to give them money again, and I remember thinking sometime later, "if they were just honest, I would probably fork over my extra change", never expecting to the rubber to ever meet the road.
All this happened in a split second, at the end of which, we all found ourselves happily reaching into our pockets and giving him beer money. No questions asked. Bravo, good sir! He hauled a good dollar or two total from us, thanked us from the bottom of his heart, and moved on to the next group of people who were also quick to hand over their extra.
The reason this might be considered sad is obvious: we've all seen some of these guys use pan-handled change to buy booze in a liquor store and sink further into their personal abyss. Usually the last thing you want to do is help them hit the bottom. I don't know what fraction of them are in this situation, but this was a notable exception.
To that hero: Where ever you are out there dude, you're a hell of a performer and one of the most blatantly honest strangers I've ever met. Even if you didn't buy beer with that money, I'm sure you found yourself some good booze or wine in a box. All the best.
