I don’t want to write this…

…but part of the deal for me is to attempt some semblance of authenticity, so here goes.

I suck.

I, like I’m sure a great many of you, commute. For me it’s a blessing and a curse. It’s ramp up time on the way in. (put on your game face) And it’s de-compression time on the way home. (No home casualties stemming from my business day) Like most happy lemmings I usually take one of a couple of routes back to headquarters where the clan awaits to greet me in various degrees of enthusiasm.

Yesterday, I was taking route “A” home. Near the end of the road I get off the highway that I’ve been on for 25 minutes and take a long and curly exit ramp to one of the main streets in my town.

For the last year or so there have been a variety of people waiting for people like me to get off there. They range from those crossing without transportation toward whatever business they’re attending to, to people soliciting. The latter of this group are either church people raising money  selling candy bars with their children on the median (tacky, tacky, tacky) or less fortunate folk that simply need cash. Of the latter part of that group there have been a small handful of fellows (never women) that seem to cycle in and out of the territory with one exception. Let’s call him Bill. Bill has been around pretty consistently for the last couple years. Not everyday, but often enough to be plenty recognizable. Bill is physically handicapped. He struggles to get around some.

It’s become a sick game of mine to do everything in  my power to avoid contact with him. He stands near the traffic light so it’s always different when I round the turn. Will I be so far back in the line of cars that I don’t have to “obviously” avoid him? Will the light turn to green as I’m getting closer to him, etc. Many people will hold up traffic a for a few seconds to hand him cash or food.

I’ve never done this. I don’t know why. I’m not unkind or uncharitable. I really don’t hate people. Bill is obviously someone in need. I don’t understand this about my self.

The other day I came around the turn and he was there and all the random factors aligned. I stopped and he was right next to my window. I looked away all the while hating myself. Without knowing I was doing it, I turned my head to the left and saw him. He was looking right at me. Not two feet from me. It was too late, and our eyes met. Neither of us moved. If I hadn’t felt like crap about myself before, I did now. This mans’ eyes told me he was in pain. They told me he was simply hanging on to the life that had been given him. I instantly looked through his eyes back at me and felt some of what he might be going through. Concern, exhaustion, his humanity challenged and his dignity all but dead. Whatever choices he’d made in his life never even came into play. Then the worst of it. I saw me sitting in my vehicle. I saw my eyes. I saw shame, fear, dread, doubt. A thousand things flashed past his/my eyes.

Then it was done.

The light changed color. I drove away. No offer of help. Nothing. Not even a quick “I acknowledge you” nod.

I suck. I don’t want to suck.


~ by trendof1 on January 13, 2010.

One Response to “I don’t want to write this…”

  1. Read Proverbs 28:27

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