Of Poverty And Homeless Bums

Dear Homeless Bum on the Street,

You and I don’t know each other, but I saw you ranting and raving on the side of the street one day while on vacation in a city much bigger than my own. I was standing outside a restaurant with my family and friends, waiting for a table to open up. You were walking up and down the sidewalk, waving your bottle of liquor around and screaming about aliens and the government.

Although my party tried to discourage it, I was intrigued and moved closer to you. I wanted to hear what you were saying. I thought you knew something I didn’t. I couldn’t understand why no one else was interested. Didn’t they want to know, too?

Once I was a few feet away from you, I saw that your clothes were dirty and torn. I saw the matted dirt in your beard. I wondered what mysteries were crammed into the sack on your back. I smelled urine.

I listened as you yelled at everyone who passed by. You yelled about government conspiracies. About how the aliens let you in on the government’s secret plans. You smiled a nearly toothless smile at me, and I didn’t know if you were happy or delusional. You took swig after swig from your liquor bottle, and you slung it down an alley once you drained it.

Sensing the situation was escalating, I moved away from you. Soon, my family and friends and I were called to our table in the restaurant.

I came to the conclusion that day, Mr. Homeless Bum on the Street, that you weren’t a bum. You were someone who perhaps grew up in poverty, or hit a rough patch that hurled you into poverty. Maybe a combination of mental health problems and poverty led you to your home on the street. Maybe a mix of poor economic luck and your home on the street led you to have mental health problems. And I still couldn’t understand why no one else was interested.

I will probably never see you again, poor homeless man, but I’ve never forgotten the lessons your presence taught me that day on vacation. And I never pass up the chance to explain possible underlying reasons for what seem like apathetic, bumming circumstances – even to those who aren’t interested.

I hope you’ve found help,

Alicia