Wallet Story & Beyond

Okay, long-ass story short, folx: Dave brought my wallet to me, as it had fallen out of my pocket, and was in the back seat of his Lexus. I gave him my copy of How Would A Patriot Act?, and thanked him profusely for being a good neighbor and Righteous Dude.

Wednesday... more tangential Vietnam stories.

I met a guy Wednesday while I was waiting to catch the bus. He asked me for a cigarette, and he wasn't too proud to ask me for some money, so it was obvious he was needing someone's help, somehow. All city dwellers encounter panhandlers, but Donny didn't strike me as a street performer. He did strike me as a troubled soul. We had a nice chat waiting for the bus, there. Donny's a songwriter (like every waitress in this town) said he'd been stuck at the CMA Awards when he got drunk, and his ride up and left him. He told me that he was on Veteran Disability for mental health and other reasons. Since he had an open beer with him, under his leather longcoat, and he said he had cirrhosis, I wasn't gonna give him any money, as cruel as that might sound. But he said he was walking to Bellevue -- a long damn way away from where he and I met up. So, when the bus arrived, I bought him and me each an MTA day pass, and told him how to use it to catch the bus all the way out to Bellevue (very easy -- two buses), and thanked him for his service, wished him luck when I got to my stop. He was really appreciative, but... I don't know that he won't try to get $2 out of the day pass at the next stop so's he can get another "40." Or, judging from his questions ("Y'mean, I could use this pass all day to ride anywhere on this map?") that he won't head back downtown for some other alcohol-fueled mischief. I like to have a few beers, of course, so I don't mean to pass judgement -- if anything, I think all anyone can do is in whatever small way one can, is to empower those who need our help. I don't think I was wrong to not enable him, though.

My parting thought to him was this: "You told me you needed a cigarette and some change, and you were walking to Bellevue -- I bought you that bus pass so you wouldn't have to walk so far, because I've been there, and that's not a fun place to be. You can use it, or not -- I'm not gonna tell you what you need to do, 'cause you're old enough to do what you want. But you can't say that you didn't have a ride home -- I just bought that for you. You can use it, or not, okay? It's your choice -- up to you. If you're not gonna use it, I just hope you'll give it to someone who needs a ride as bad as you do, okay? Take care of yourself, man. See ya."

I hope he got a ride home, but I'm not convinced he cared more than I did about that, sadly.

And then, I look at my situation, and how much help I've received, from you. Yes, you. I just got another check from some generous Atriot that nearly covers my rent, and it kills me... yeah, I know this person can afford that, but... damn, it hurts to not have even an arranged repayment agreement in place with them. This isn't some hillbilly version of "Catholic guilt," folx -- it's basic self-esteem. As accustomed as I have become to relying on you wonderful people to save my ass, I'm not happy about it, though I'd surely be less happy living on the street. It's still painful.

But, I'm paying it forward, too. Remember the jakeleg Pentium I notebook from this past spring? It saved me from complete netlessness back in May, but since Dr. Shouty-Crackers pooled funds from other friends I don't deserve, and sent me this kickass tebo, the ancient Toshi has been collecting dust. I just gave it to the dishwasher/busboy at Cafe Coco, 'cause his PC just died, and he's trying to keep a website goin'. He's got a metric buttload of my old bidness cards, so I'm sure the karmic ledger will all work out in the end (in his case, it already has, since I had no use for that PC, and Jonathan is a cool dude).
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