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I have lost count on how many homeless people I have bought coffee and hamburgers while doing errands in town (Denver or Boulder) this winter, and every time I walk away I know it's NOTHING.
It has been so fucking cold here (albeit not right now, the Colorado winter comes in phases), cold and beautiful like the White Witches ass, and yet they hang around and sit near an air vent or something...and I think it's the old ones that get to me the most. Like the sweet old dude two weeks ago (when it was frigging freezing) in Boulder, right on the end of the Pearl Street Mall, so it was no big deal to get him something warm to drink and some change, and he was talking about how much I look like his sister used to look when she was living, and what a bum he was and how he really didn't want to offend me or keep me from my errands, but he just loved the chat, etc etc.
He talked like he was hungry for talking and for eye contact, I know it sounds cliche, but that's how it was. So I told him a little about Sweden in return, and he knew the name of our capital at least, which impressed me (certainly not everyone in better clothes here does).
Monday I went into Denver, the weather was mild, and on my way home, back to where the Boulder buses stop I passed a big black dude on the corner of 16 street and Arapaho, he had a huge smile on his face (it was a nice sunny mild day), I recognized him, he has a business where he makes sandwiches that he sells around the 16th Street Mall and a big part of the profit goes to homeless people's meals and shelter (he used to be homeless himself if I caught his story right). Anyway, right when I passed he recognized me as well (I walk that part of town often on my way to the Archives), and he grinned at me and gave me a low five while saying in quite the outdoor voice: (for a repressed Swede at least) I still love you!!!
When I talked to him about how business went, the weather etc (I've bought stuff from him a couple of times, he makes good sandwiches), he asked me if I wanted a christmas sandwich for free, and I had just done banking to buy gifts I really can't afford and yet dearly wanted to buy anyway, payed bills and...I'm just trying to explain even to myself while I'm writing this why I started crying when he offered me a fucking sandwich.
I said: "No, I need a diet." He looked at me and answered: "No, I need a diet!"
And crap, if that didn't make me snort and sniff even worse.
I don't know how people manage here. I just don't know what to do, I guess when I get a proper job and am done with the thesis I might try picking up some voluntary work, if I even know where to start. And if I can stand feeling like helpless crap every day.
I guess there is no neat little philosophical ending to this depressing post in a season of Joy, I like the black dude, I looked like shit on my way home on the bus (red nose and swollen eyes). Back home I wrapped my presents and decorated a pretty tree and I was happy about that, because I really like Christmas or whatever people of various background want to call this season.
But this diversity in means just may do me in on a bad day. I grew up with such different values in front of my eyes...and I do know that there are plenty of people in Sweden that need help as well...but here it's just overwhelming sometimes.
When I talk about this phenomena with friends in the States they often say that the homeless have chosen this themselves, that many of them are mentally ill, drug addicts, ex-addicts or alcoholics...like that makes it ok somehow.
These are decent people saying this to me, they probably do their fair share of charity, and I'm guessing they need these explanations as shields for themselves, make belief reasons for why they will never end up the same way. Like a protection charm, similar to hearing about someone dying before his time, and adding: ..but you know..he was a HEAVY smoker..
On second thought, if I do want to sum this gloomy confused post up on a kind of holiday spirit-key, the sandwich guy might be just that; he used to be homeless and today he does a lot of community help work, he is fat and he is...I don't now... warm, present, or just there.
The kind of "thereness" that makes a repressed Swede cry in a street corner on a sunny Denver day.
Have some truly happy Holidays, I'm gonna watch my tree, give and open presents, cuddle babies, dogs and cats, escape into Good-DvD-Escapism-Land and NOT be on a diet for a while!
It has been so fucking cold here (albeit not right now, the Colorado winter comes in phases), cold and beautiful like the White Witches ass, and yet they hang around and sit near an air vent or something...and I think it's the old ones that get to me the most. Like the sweet old dude two weeks ago (when it was frigging freezing) in Boulder, right on the end of the Pearl Street Mall, so it was no big deal to get him something warm to drink and some change, and he was talking about how much I look like his sister used to look when she was living, and what a bum he was and how he really didn't want to offend me or keep me from my errands, but he just loved the chat, etc etc.
He talked like he was hungry for talking and for eye contact, I know it sounds cliche, but that's how it was. So I told him a little about Sweden in return, and he knew the name of our capital at least, which impressed me (certainly not everyone in better clothes here does).
Monday I went into Denver, the weather was mild, and on my way home, back to where the Boulder buses stop I passed a big black dude on the corner of 16 street and Arapaho, he had a huge smile on his face (it was a nice sunny mild day), I recognized him, he has a business where he makes sandwiches that he sells around the 16th Street Mall and a big part of the profit goes to homeless people's meals and shelter (he used to be homeless himself if I caught his story right). Anyway, right when I passed he recognized me as well (I walk that part of town often on my way to the Archives), and he grinned at me and gave me a low five while saying in quite the outdoor voice: (for a repressed Swede at least) I still love you!!!
When I talked to him about how business went, the weather etc (I've bought stuff from him a couple of times, he makes good sandwiches), he asked me if I wanted a christmas sandwich for free, and I had just done banking to buy gifts I really can't afford and yet dearly wanted to buy anyway, payed bills and...I'm just trying to explain even to myself while I'm writing this why I started crying when he offered me a fucking sandwich.
I said: "No, I need a diet." He looked at me and answered: "No, I need a diet!"
And crap, if that didn't make me snort and sniff even worse.
I don't know how people manage here. I just don't know what to do, I guess when I get a proper job and am done with the thesis I might try picking up some voluntary work, if I even know where to start. And if I can stand feeling like helpless crap every day.
I guess there is no neat little philosophical ending to this depressing post in a season of Joy, I like the black dude, I looked like shit on my way home on the bus (red nose and swollen eyes). Back home I wrapped my presents and decorated a pretty tree and I was happy about that, because I really like Christmas or whatever people of various background want to call this season.
But this diversity in means just may do me in on a bad day. I grew up with such different values in front of my eyes...and I do know that there are plenty of people in Sweden that need help as well...but here it's just overwhelming sometimes.
When I talk about this phenomena with friends in the States they often say that the homeless have chosen this themselves, that many of them are mentally ill, drug addicts, ex-addicts or alcoholics...like that makes it ok somehow.
These are decent people saying this to me, they probably do their fair share of charity, and I'm guessing they need these explanations as shields for themselves, make belief reasons for why they will never end up the same way. Like a protection charm, similar to hearing about someone dying before his time, and adding: ..but you know..he was a HEAVY smoker..
On second thought, if I do want to sum this gloomy confused post up on a kind of holiday spirit-key, the sandwich guy might be just that; he used to be homeless and today he does a lot of community help work, he is fat and he is...I don't now... warm, present, or just there.
The kind of "thereness" that makes a repressed Swede cry in a street corner on a sunny Denver day.
Have some truly happy Holidays, I'm gonna watch my tree, give and open presents, cuddle babies, dogs and cats, escape into Good-DvD-Escapism-Land and NOT be on a diet for a while!
