Yes, exactly. Like the other day when I was shopping in Wegman's for a few things. I had a list, but was sort of wandering, in haphazard fashion, from aisle to aisle.
And I kept coming across this older couple--50s, 60s, I dunno. He was sort of thin and gray-looking and disheveled. And the loose, not quite baggy jeans he had on had a huge rip across one leg, just above the knee.
And, I'm sorry, I know any decent writer would keep him- or herself out of it, but afterwards I kept thinking, WTF WAS I thinking? That this was some young kid making a fashion statement or something. Still can't let go of my blindness, tone-deafness, whatever.
The woman was a little more neatly dressed, blue jeans also but, i dunno, neater looking, unwrinkled. And she was older too, but her hair was pulled back and she wore what looked like a man's blue plaid shirt tucked in neatly at the waist.
Anyway, they were pushing one of those small shopping carts through the store and I encountered them several times on my own distracted journey and noticed, but didn't see, that each time they had little or nothing in it and, at one point, seemed to be having a very intense conversation over a very small jar of spaghetti sauce.
And so I continued on my way, finally making it to the checkout line. But as I was tapping my touchless card on the payment device--I don't know what that"s called--I noticed they were in line directly behind me.
And all that was in their cart, all that they put on the conveyer, was one thin bag of the uncooked pasta and the tiny jar of sauce that I'd seen them discussing.
And then this morning, as I was getting up, I thought about my old friend Bert Tatro who volunteered at a shelter for homeless and alcoholic men up in the north country and once literally gave the shirt off his back to a man on a downtown street corner in the city.
And about why I hadn't done something, for these people who looked to be in need, when I saw them in a store in my own neighborhood.
Forgive me Bert, I think you must've been there, urging me to look, to see, to do something. But you were always the better friend, the better person, between the two of us...
Lynn, I'm so sorry for all the revisions/corrections, but I had to get this somewhere close to right. You know, for Bert. He thought I was a writer, but helped me learn to make a living as a mechanic...
It reminds me of the phrase 'living in quiet desperation.'
The situation... it is hard to know what to do. I shop in so narrow a place, we don't see much of the desperate and needy. My sister who passed last December, in dire circumstances did not want any one to notice and esp not to point it out to her - she has a hard, angry pride and to help her was so difficult.
I'm so sorry to hear that about your sister, so sorry for your loss.
And I have played over, a number of times in my head, the manner in which I might've inconspicuously helped that couple.
Along with examining whether I would truly, truly have been doing it for them or whether it would've been to feed some fundamental hunger in my own soul...
Thank you. I'm still spinning at times from the loss. She had dementia for 10 years, in nursing home for her last years - and horribly neglected at the end, which contributed to her death. She was just so combative and bitter. She had that hard pride even as she left us layer by layer. Her last years it was impossible to visit, even before the Covid quarantine. She was severely dehydrated, raging UTI, and already in sepsis w. blood clots in her lungs and legs before the nursing home took her to the ER. She died medicated and hydrated at least, the physical suffering addressed at least. This still haunts me.
I understand your last sentence, the desire to help someone to feed something in our own soul! One time I purposely dropped a 5 dollar bill by a woman who was debating on which $1 can of soup to buy at Dollar Tree. She snatched it up so fast and looked around as if guilty of something, but didn't say anything. It was then I realized she saw it drop from my hand as she gave me a side-glance. I felt weird but she bought 4 cans of soup that day. I felt I'd intruded into her life in some way, crossing a line of dignity.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2021-08-25 08:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2021-08-26 12:08 pm (UTC)And I kept coming across this older couple--50s, 60s, I dunno. He was sort of thin and gray-looking and disheveled. And the loose, not quite baggy jeans he had on had a huge rip across one leg, just above the knee.
And, I'm sorry, I know any decent writer would keep him- or herself out of it, but afterwards I kept thinking, WTF WAS I thinking? That this was some young kid making a fashion statement or something. Still can't let go of my blindness, tone-deafness, whatever.
The woman was a little more neatly dressed, blue jeans also but, i dunno, neater looking, unwrinkled. And she was older too, but her hair was pulled back and she wore what looked like a man's blue plaid shirt tucked in neatly at the waist.
Anyway, they were pushing one of those small shopping carts through the store and I encountered them several times on my own distracted journey and noticed, but didn't see, that each time they had little or nothing in it and, at one point, seemed to be having a very intense conversation over a very small jar of spaghetti sauce.
And so I continued on my way, finally making it to the checkout line. But as I was tapping my touchless card on the payment device--I don't know what that"s called--I noticed they were in line directly behind me.
And all that was in their cart, all that they put on the conveyer, was one thin bag of the uncooked pasta and the tiny jar of sauce that I'd seen them discussing.
And then this morning, as I was getting up, I thought about my old friend Bert Tatro who volunteered at a shelter for homeless and alcoholic men up in the north country and once literally gave the shirt off his back to a man on a downtown street corner in the city.
And about why I hadn't done something, for these people who looked to be in need, when I saw them in a store in my own neighborhood.
Forgive me Bert, I think you must've been there, urging me to look, to see, to do something. But you were always the better friend, the better person, between the two of us...
no subject
Date: 2021-08-26 12:25 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2021-09-01 05:14 pm (UTC)The situation... it is hard to know what to do. I shop in so narrow a place, we don't see much of the desperate and needy. My sister who passed last December, in dire circumstances did not want any one to notice and esp not to point it out to her - she has a hard, angry pride and to help her was so difficult.
no subject
Date: 2021-09-02 08:04 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2021-09-02 12:28 pm (UTC)And I have played over, a number of times in my head, the manner in which I might've inconspicuously helped that couple.
Along with examining whether I would truly, truly have been doing it for them or whether it would've been to feed some fundamental hunger in my own soul...
no subject
Date: 2021-09-03 04:20 pm (UTC)She was just so combative and bitter. She had that hard pride even as she left us layer by layer. Her last years it was impossible to visit, even before the Covid quarantine. She was severely dehydrated, raging UTI, and already in sepsis w. blood clots in her lungs and legs before the nursing home took her to the ER. She died medicated and hydrated at least, the physical suffering addressed at least. This still haunts me.
I understand your last sentence, the desire to help someone to feed something in our own soul! One time I purposely dropped a 5 dollar bill by a woman who was debating on which $1 can of soup to buy at Dollar Tree. She snatched it up so fast and looked around as if guilty of something, but didn't say anything. It was then I realized she saw it drop from my hand as she gave me a side-glance. I felt weird but she bought 4 cans of soup that day. I felt I'd intruded into her life in some way, crossing a line of dignity.