|
It began in the Del Amo Mall food court. Resting at one of the tables after my lunch, I casually glanced around the place. The food
court wasn't crowded, and consequently I had no trouble spotting him: a tall, dark, gray-haired man. He caught my gaze, and started walking towards me. As I took in his gaunt frame, his tattered red t-shirt, and the
holes in his great sweats, it dawned on me that before me stood a homeless man. Reaching my table, he asked if he could sit down with me but I declined. I wasn't in the mood to talk to him, and so mumbling a poor excuse
and an apology that was probably a few octaves below any decipherable level, and not particularly caring whether the man heard me or not, I got up and walked away. The man called out after me, assuring me that he didn't
want money, but rather only someone to talk to. I was rattled by his persistence, and pretending I didn't hear him I quickly walked away, my heart pounding in my chest.Later that day the incident gnawed on
my mind; that I coldly turned down a man who simply wanted someone to talk to was uncharacteristic and appalled me. As I lay awake that night, listening to the rain beat against my roof, my thoughts drifted back to the
man at the mall. Was he outside in this rain right now? Was he cold, wet, and hungry? Was he lonely? The thought of him feeling abandoned because of me weighed even more heavily on my conscience. In my first year of
high school I suffered through a terrible ordeal that distanced me from my friends for some time. I am familiar with the despair that arises from loneliness, and it made my guilt all the more acute. As I lay in bed, I
felt frustrated and angry with myself for acting so callously. I was eager to apologize to the man and the next day I returned to the mall in search of him. It was all in vain, however, as I could not find
him, and the mere fact that I tried did nothing to mitigate my guilt. As days passed my thoughts wouldn't waver from the incident; it showed an ugly side of me I didn't like—a side of me that I was ashamed of. I felt
the need to make it up to the person and atone for my impropriety, and I set about to create an organization where I would provide the homeless something I should have provided to that man: attention. And that was how I
formed STATH—Students Talking To Homeless. Through my organization I've 'adopted' many homeless people in Los Angeles and San Francisco. On weekends our members drive to the cities and spend the day with our adopted
by taking them out for lunch, helping them carry around their possessions, or even sitting down and conversing with them. Working with the homeless has been a catharsis for me and I feel that I've become a better person
because of it. Now I keep STATH active not because I still feel the urge to atone for the mall incident, but rather because I enjoy the interesting experiences it brings and watching the homeless' faces light up in
astonishment and gratitude. That the homeless desperately seek interaction with other people was evident in Kevin, the first homeless I adopted. I met Kevin on STATH's first excursion; he was in an
alley, sitting on a pile of newspapers beside his shopping cart. As I took in his ragged brown coat that was coated with bits of vegetables, straws, and other litter, and the pieces of cardboards tied to the soles of
his decaying shoes, I recall wondering what horrible adversities this man had faced. Even his shopping cart, which contained his paltry possessions in the form of some aluminum cans, dirty blankets, and a cardboard box,
bespoke his severe lifestyle. But all of this paled in comparison to his eyes; they were lackluster and downcast. They conveyed the impression that Kevin was the loneliest man in the world. Somewhat surprised, I
approached him timidly and identified my organization and myself. To my delight he invited me to sit beside him and that afternoon Kevin regaled me with interesting tales from his past. He talked about his family and
their Thanksgiving ritual where he would douse the entire turkey in gravy. I learned about the Air Force Academy and the crumbly corned beef they served every Friday. My favorite was when he talked about his
participation in a fighter jet air show. Kevin was using his hands to simulate his F-22 Raptor, sending it into spirals and dives all the while rapidly describing the motions and imitating the jet sounds. Amidst all the
sharp gesticulations, the flurry of descriptions, and the onomatopoeias, I had to smile. I was drawn to his face again and surprised at how his eyes seemed to sparkle with life. His effervescence was such a change from
the torpid state I found him in and I was elated by the transformation. Since the mall incident my time with the homeless have widened my eyes considerably. I learned about panhandling, canning routes, and
day labors. I learned about the depression and loneliness that plagues many of the homeless. When I glance upon the effusive joy they derive from STATH's help, I get an idea as to how scathing my rejection might
have been to the homeless at Del Amo. If only I could live the day over –It's a thought I've entertained on many occasions. I fear that in my callousness I have driven the man into a deep despair at the thought that no
one wants to spend their time with him. Every time I adopt another homeless on one of STATH's excursions, I relive the incident at the mall. Only now, I take solace in the fact that I make the right decision. |
|
