milagros317
Wielder of 500 Feathers
- Joined
- Jan 12, 2002
- Messages
- 617,180
- Points
- 113
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I originally posted this thread in order to relate the two anecdotes that are still below, in small font, in the hope that some people would find them interesting. That did not happen.
Instead, this thread evolved into a discussion of charity and how to most effectively help people who need it.
There is nothing wrong with having such a discussion, but it belongs in the Politics & Religion Forum. Please move it there.
-milagros317
1. It was the summer of 1991. I was walking downtown on Central Park West going home from the American Museum of
Natural History. It was a sunny day, so I was wearing a baseball cap to keep the sun off my face. It was one my
Brooklyn Dodger caps.
A man was standing on the corner of 73rd Street and Central Park West and he was asking everybody who passed by,
"Can you spare me some change? I'm trying to get enough for lunch." Nobody was giving him any money. He looked as if
he would spend the money on a cheap bottle of wine, if he got enough cash.
When I went by, however, he said instead, "Oh, Brooklyn Dodgers. I was a Brooklyn Dodger fan."
I stopped walking and took a good look at him. He appeared to be about 50, a not very healthy 50. I said, "You look
old enough to have been a Brooklyn Dodger fan. In the year they won the World Series, in 1955, the starting pitching
rotation was Don Newcombe, Carl Erskine, Billy Loes, and Johnny Podres. The ace out of the bullpen was Clem Labine. Now,
you tell me who the eight regular position players were."
He said, "Roy Campanella was the catcher, Gil Hodges at first base, Jim Gilliam at second base, Jackie Robinson at third
base that year, moved there to make room for Gilliam, Peewee Reese at shortstop, Sandy Amoros in left field, Duke Snider
in center field, and Carl Furillo played right field."
He smiled as he finished. I reached for my wallet and took it out. "Absolutely correct," I said.
"Then you'll give me a couple of bucks for lunch?" he asked.
"Better than that," I said. "Have a good lunch today. There aren't many of us Brooklyn Dodger fans left." I handed him
a $20 bill and turned to walk home. It may have been spent on wine, whiskey, or crack cocaine, but I didn't care.
2. It was the spring of 2015. On a warm April day, I was walking south on Broadway, heading to work, passing my local
bank branch just north of 61st Street. A young blonde woman, about 20, was sitting on the sidewalk right outside the
vestibule with half a dozen ATM's inside. Actually, she was sitting on a big piece of cardboard which was on the
sidewalk. Another big piece of cardboard was propped up against the bank's wall behind her. On it was written, "Homeless
but NOT Hopeless. Please help me." A hat with a few dollar bills in it was near her feet.
As I went by she looked me in the eyes and said, "I'm hungry. Please help me."
"Nobody is going to believe that you're homeless with a pedicure like that," I said, pointing to her feet, in sandals,
with what looked like a professional pedicure, applied in a nail salon, with gleaming bright blue polish and perfectly
shaped toenails.
She blushed and didn't reply.
"What you need to do," I said, "is go home and put on your oldest, dirtiest sneakers. Then maybe people will believe
that you're homeless." I walked away without putting any money into the hat.
The next day, I was walking south on Broadway and I saw, in the exact same spot, the same young woman sitting on the same
piece of cardboard with the same cardboard sign behind her. But now she was wearing a very dirty pair of old sneakers.
She looked up at me, recognized me from the day before, and didn't say anything. I took out my wallet and dropped a
$5 bill into her hat. She looked shocked but still didn't say anything. "Nobody every takes my advice," I said, "and
you did." I continued south on Broadway headed to work.
I originally posted this thread in order to relate the two anecdotes that are still below, in small font, in the hope that some people would find them interesting. That did not happen.
Instead, this thread evolved into a discussion of charity and how to most effectively help people who need it.
There is nothing wrong with having such a discussion, but it belongs in the Politics & Religion Forum. Please move it there.
-milagros317
1. It was the summer of 1991. I was walking downtown on Central Park West going home from the American Museum of
Natural History. It was a sunny day, so I was wearing a baseball cap to keep the sun off my face. It was one my
Brooklyn Dodger caps.
A man was standing on the corner of 73rd Street and Central Park West and he was asking everybody who passed by,
"Can you spare me some change? I'm trying to get enough for lunch." Nobody was giving him any money. He looked as if
he would spend the money on a cheap bottle of wine, if he got enough cash.
When I went by, however, he said instead, "Oh, Brooklyn Dodgers. I was a Brooklyn Dodger fan."
I stopped walking and took a good look at him. He appeared to be about 50, a not very healthy 50. I said, "You look
old enough to have been a Brooklyn Dodger fan. In the year they won the World Series, in 1955, the starting pitching
rotation was Don Newcombe, Carl Erskine, Billy Loes, and Johnny Podres. The ace out of the bullpen was Clem Labine. Now,
you tell me who the eight regular position players were."
He said, "Roy Campanella was the catcher, Gil Hodges at first base, Jim Gilliam at second base, Jackie Robinson at third
base that year, moved there to make room for Gilliam, Peewee Reese at shortstop, Sandy Amoros in left field, Duke Snider
in center field, and Carl Furillo played right field."
He smiled as he finished. I reached for my wallet and took it out. "Absolutely correct," I said.
"Then you'll give me a couple of bucks for lunch?" he asked.
"Better than that," I said. "Have a good lunch today. There aren't many of us Brooklyn Dodger fans left." I handed him
a $20 bill and turned to walk home. It may have been spent on wine, whiskey, or crack cocaine, but I didn't care.
2. It was the spring of 2015. On a warm April day, I was walking south on Broadway, heading to work, passing my local
bank branch just north of 61st Street. A young blonde woman, about 20, was sitting on the sidewalk right outside the
vestibule with half a dozen ATM's inside. Actually, she was sitting on a big piece of cardboard which was on the
sidewalk. Another big piece of cardboard was propped up against the bank's wall behind her. On it was written, "Homeless
but NOT Hopeless. Please help me." A hat with a few dollar bills in it was near her feet.
As I went by she looked me in the eyes and said, "I'm hungry. Please help me."
"Nobody is going to believe that you're homeless with a pedicure like that," I said, pointing to her feet, in sandals,
with what looked like a professional pedicure, applied in a nail salon, with gleaming bright blue polish and perfectly
shaped toenails.
She blushed and didn't reply.
"What you need to do," I said, "is go home and put on your oldest, dirtiest sneakers. Then maybe people will believe
that you're homeless." I walked away without putting any money into the hat.
The next day, I was walking south on Broadway and I saw, in the exact same spot, the same young woman sitting on the same
piece of cardboard with the same cardboard sign behind her. But now she was wearing a very dirty pair of old sneakers.
She looked up at me, recognized me from the day before, and didn't say anything. I took out my wallet and dropped a
$5 bill into her hat. She looked shocked but still didn't say anything. "Nobody every takes my advice," I said, "and
you did." I continued south on Broadway headed to work.
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