Walking the Wall

When pulling off of the expressway on the way to college tonight, there
was a man standing at the road right where all the traffic is held up
waiting to pull off the exit ramp. He was dirty, his eyes were puffy,
he wore oversized, unlaced boots and ragged clothing; and he held a
cardboard sign requesting work. Slowing to a stop only a few feet from
the man, I was forced to either sit and look at him, or keep my eyes
studiously, and obviously, away from him. My first thought was to see
if I had any cash on me to give him, my second thought was, he probably
is an alcoholic or drug addict and will use it on the fix of his
choice, my third thought was that somewhere along the line I had become
cynical–then traffic forced me to move on and I was rescued from
making a choice.

I am not so naive to think that my $5 would have made any difference in
his life, I’m not so foolish to not understand that he really could be
an addict or an alcoholic, but I’m also not so self-delusioned not to
realize that I felt uncomfortable being faced with someone who was in
an obviously bad state, and was relieved to have escaped the situation.
I like to believe that we, as a society, are responsible for the people
in our society, responsible to do what we can to mitigate poverty and
issues that are intertwined with poverty. I also believe that it is
completely impossible to eradicate poverty, that no matter how many
help organizations are implemented, there are people who will have
issues that will continually put them outside the sphere of true
change.

So what does it mean when you are logical enough to understand that not
every person can be helped, but empathetic enough to  believe that
we have a duty as human beings to behave humanely to each other?

Its an uncomfortable feeling to come face to face with a mirror and not be impressed with what you see.