A NOTE ABOUT RECIPROCITY

WHENEVER I WRITE ABOUT THE POOR, the responses always come in abundance. ONE PAYCHECK AWAY FROM HUMANITY was another example of this and my email was jammed with dozens of letters. A number of you have been kind enough to broadcast your feelings here. More than one of you were offended, as if I were issuing a personal and direct challenge; some were inspired to act; some heaped praise, and so on.

It is a sign that I should continue to write about the poor and homeless, especially as our nation struggles. That I shall do.

Below is a post from Gemma Benton, whose blog I began following at the beginning of 2009. She is committed to "Setting a thought in motion that will sustain seven generations, and prompting an indigenous conversation." I hope to pursue these issues with her over the coming weeks and months, but in the meantime, I don't think she'll mind if I share the entirety of what she wrote here.

You can find her wonderful blog, "Way Beyond Green: going beyond the conventional into deep sustainability" at http://waybeyondgreen.org/


ANOTHER NOTE ABOUT RECIPROCITY

If you read this blog through Google reader, you’ll want to “refresh” my post about reciprocity. I changed a bit. Soon after I changing it, I came across Kevin Miller’s post about his interaction with some ‘down on their luck’ folks in Cleveland.

You’ll enjoy his story. Here’s my take.. Kevin’s generosity was true in deed and heart and is a great example we can all learn from. Thank you Kevin!

Yet standing away from the forefront, in a single gesture I was struck by the black man who had nothing..homeless and freezing… yet found a generous moment in his soul as well. He could have done the ’street rap’, ranting about how “Its about time someone helped..I’m entitled to…a warm bed, a roof over my head…”

Yet that’s not what happened, he turned his attention to express his appreciation and return a kindness. Wow! Now that’s worth talking about. I wish I could buy this guy dinner and a cool hat to go with his new jacket and thank him for giving us the gift of meaningful conversation.

There has been a lot of talk going around about what folks think they have a “right to” or are entitled to. Some times we get so sideways with our “right to” that we lose our way and become ‘besides our selves‘.

True generosity and kindness is about giving with humility. This way of getting ‘besides our selves’ and getting humble again, it’s what the old people used to call “becoming a human being”.

If out of the crisis, we emerge true human beings… well that would be the healing miracle that the Elders have been calling for and it could be the sign for great healing of the planet; better said, the healing of our selves.




The above photo is 57-year-old Robert Slaughter, a homeless man who lives in a wooded area in Rockville. It was taken by Michael Williamson/The Washington Post

ONE PAYCHECK AWAY FROM HUMANITY

THE STREETS OF CLEVELAND were filled with people last week, due mainly to the record-setting attendance levels at the 33rd Annual Cleveland International Film Festival (CIFF). If anyone doubts the power of the arts to engage citizens and revitalize communities, they would be wise to note how many suburbanites have flocked to downtown for CIFF during March.

AS I WANDERED through the streets of Cleveland and hosted out-of-town visitors, a few other thoughts bubbled to the surface as well. The numbers of homeless on the streets was staggering and seemed to be higher than the dreadful period in the late 80s and early 90s when beggars seemed to outnumber businessmen.

So it was sobering, to say the least — and upon request, I handed out $1 bills to dozens of men and women. I implored them all to avoid using the money for alcohol or drugs. Most were clear-eyed and appeared alcohol free, so perhaps my human investment did indeed go for food rather than ‘the devil’s tonic’ or some other destructive device.

Nevertheless, one of my guests gently criticized me for handing out dollar bills, saying, “don’t you realize you’re being scammed?”

I nodded his way and smiled, and recalled a similar event from New York City a decade prior. I was in New York frequently as a literary agent in 1997, and a nearly identical scenario existed. On every block there was a new person begging for money. Nearly every time I would give them a dollar until my dollar bills ran dry. A friend of mine, a hardened New Yorker who had lived in the Concrete Jungle for over twenty years, flipped out. “What the *%#@ are you doing, man?” he blurted out. “These people are here every day. This is what they DO. Why are you giving them money?”

I turned and smiled, calmly. I’d heard this reasoning many times before, especially during the production of my film, THE PROMISED LAND. “My friend,” I began, “if these people have fallen so far that they feel the need to scam change to survive, then I’ll give them a dollar.” My friend grumbled and uttered something about the streets of Manhattan meting out its “New York-style” justice to those who aren’t strong enough to survive, but I ignored the sentiment.

I once wrote that “the poor will always be my brothers and sisters,” and that even though I was raised as “Middle Class,” and had dined with the wealthy and powerful, that I would always feel great empathy for the poor. Being a filmmaker, at least thus far, has not made we wealthy, so I certainly can identify with those who are “one paycheck away from poverty,” and those who are already suffering.

A number of years ago I was dropping off some clothes and food to a soup kitchen in Cleveland. It was a particularly ugly day; temperatures were in the teens and it was snowing like Antarctica. A smiling African American gentleman lept to his feet and opened the door as I approached the entrance. He thanked me for bringing clothes and food to help the poor. I smiled back and proceeded inside where the soup kitchen was about to open.

After dropping off my donation I came back into the winter cold and pulled the collar of my long American Eagle overcoat up around my neck. As I reached my car, I stopped — and turned to look at the man who had opened the door for me. He waved and smiled as the snow continued to swirl around him.

I crossed the street and approached the man, who was in line with about 100 others. I asked him how long he had been coming to the Catholic center for food and he explained that he had lost his job a few months prior and had been unable to find work.

“Where are you sleeping?” I asked.

“Inside, when I can,” he joked.

“And how often is that?” I asked.

“About two times a week,” he said matter-of-factly.

So I took off my oversized American Eagle coat and told him, “You need this more than I.” He was a big man — about 6’2 — and the coat fit him perfectly, even over the layers of shirts and sweaters he’d been wearing.

“God Bless you,” he said to me.

“No sir, may God Bless you,” was my reply.

Over the coming weeks and months, I often saw the man wearing my coat as I made my way downtown. We spoke a number of times after that, and occasionally I would buy him a coffee. My simple act seemed to touch him beyond belief, but I tried to make him realize how much he had taught me; and how he helped put things into perspective.

During today’s horrific economic times, my “family” is hurting again, and the lack of compassion is more startling than ever. I suspect that we’ll see millions more on the streets, in tent villages, and more in the coming months.

Others will judge, rationalize, pontificate about the “scam artists and the bums” living on the streets, but I will not be among them.

Others will hoard and singularize, but to tell you the truth, I am thinking of walking the opposite direction.

If I can create a film about the plight of the poor, I will.

If I have bread to share, I shall.

If I have kindness to give, I will do my best to provide it.

If I can satisfy the afflicted, I will. And yes, if I have a dollar bill to invest in a fellow human, I will give it gladly.

I know I am naïve, but I still believe in the tenet, “There but for the grace of God go I,” and “what you put out comes back.”

For until things change, our humanity is all we have left. It is a perfect opportunity to change — and to evolve — if we so choose.

Godspeed.