November 11th, 2010 I gave away the last lunch (somehow, the story of the eleventh lunch was never recorded and has been lost to the mists of time). It had taken me 8 months to distribute them all.
I was on the phone chatting with a friend when I saw someone at my ‘favorite’ corner. The stars were aligned and I was stopping at the light just as he stopped walking even with my window. “Hold on,” I said, putting down the phone and rolling down the window. It was a man in his early to mid-sixties, sporting the romanticized ‘hobo from the thirties look’- backpack, bristly beard, walking stick with a flag wrapped around it (it was Veteran’s Day, after all). He smiled broadly when I opened the window. “I have a lunch, sir, if you’d like it.” “Oh, I don’t want to take your lunch!” he protested. “Oh, no, it’s for you” I insisted, handing him the lunch. “Well, thank you so much, what did I do to deserve help from such a nice lady?” he continued. I could almost see him thinking up his best pick-up lines. “Where did you get those beautiful blue eyes?” he went on. Bemused, I said I must have gotten a lucky draw in the gene pool. “What’s your name?” I asked.
I’ve never asked.
“Justin Allred Johnson” he answered with out missing a beat. “Do you know the name Jesus? I’d love to hear you say it,” he followed. I was under his spell. “Jesus,” I heard myself saying obediently. “Well, God and Jesus bless you, kind lady,” he replied as I pulled away. I watched him wave his walking stick flag in my rear view mirror as he walked down the street.
I’m not often openly flirted with, much less by a homeless man old enough to be my father. Yet, he didn’t give off a creepy vibe at all. He seemed kind and non-threatening. I’m sure if I were somewhere else that I felt less control over the situation, it might have freaked me out, but he seemed to genuinely be trying to connect and make me feel good about doing good. It was what he had to offer me. He seemed like he enjoyed the interactions he had – both the asking and receiving. This was new to me; most homeless people I’d encountered seemed embarrassed to be asking for help or had a canned and unconvincing pitch. I’ve seen Mr. Johnson several times since then but the stars have not aligned for us to talk again. I’m curious to learn more about his story.
So, I think the Twelve Lunches project has been a success. My plan now is to make a new set of modified lunches- perhaps just a protein bar wrapped up with a Marta pass and the information card. In the summer months I keep bottled water in the car so I’ll give that out as well. And maybe I’ll start going out with the Lazarus groups that visit with the homeless on a one on one basis. Let me know what successes and failures you’ve encountered helping the homeless.
This has been a beautiful and inspiring series, Claire.
Yes – very inspiring! Thank you for the example.
Yes–and yesterday when your little pre-schooler was explaining to me with her adorable British accent: “We have a lot of homeless people in Georgia. Do you have a lot of homeless people in Texas? When we see those kind of people, we need to stop and help them. My mommy helps them and I help her help them” . . . well, I was very touched.
Now I need to do more than just be touched and DO something. It’s harder here, I think–and yes, I’m partly making excuses for myself–but we don’t SEE homeless people here. Almost never. So what does that say about me? I suppose it says I live in a little bubble. But how to go about searching for people like this?