I don’t usually get annoyed by panhandlers, regardless of whether or not I think their situation is really as dire as they are presenting. I think that it is probably fair to assume that life hasn’t been as kind to those asking for spare change as it has been to myself and there really is never a time when a few less dollars in my pocket is going to be anything but the most minor of conveniences.
I wasn’t going to turn her life around with that level of generosity but allowed myself to momentarily feel like I’d been a fairly decent example for my daughter. Once inside Alaina immediately asked if we knew that woman, probably annoyed she didn’t get introduced and have the opportunity to tell the poor soul all about the slime that she made that morning. I explained the situation, reminded her of the extra food that we had bought at the grocery the day before to donate to the collection outside and felt a fair amount of pride when she pulled a quarter out of her pocket and asked if she could give that to her on the way out.
I probably wouldn’t have let her, but we never got the chance. The vagabond in question was across the street in another parking lot, leaning against a beat-up car with a beat-up-looking guy, both of them smoking cigarettes. I’m not sure if it was a rehearsed move, but the middle fingers they sent my way raised simultaneously.
I’m not sure what my reaction would have been had she not been with me, probably just a matching salute and a string of marginally clever profane insults. Ten years ago I would have waited for a few minutes to see if the guy wanted to come back across the road. Stupid.
Instead, I simply shook my head and drove off but my biggest problem is that the situation didn’t end there. My daughter is seven, she knows what those fingers meant, just not why they were directed at us.
I didn’t really know what to tell her and I hate that.
I hate that because I am trying to raise her to be a good person and there are a lot of times when other people make that hard. Times when other people make me wonder if raising her that way is even the best thing that I could be doing for her.
I will, of course, for as long as I can. Today’s bitterness is also tomorrow’s motivation to try and do the little bit that I am able to make things a little bit better. I didn’t change anybody’s life today but there is a chance that one day my daughter might, for better or for worse.
It’s a responsibility that I had no idea I was signing up for but in retrospect may just be one of the most important ones that I have.
—
Previously Published on thirstydaddy.com
—
