Little bits of kindness

The 16th street mall is lined with benches. Most of these benches people never look at, whether they are empty or occupied. Part of that reason is that if they are occupied it may be by someone who is homeless, or at least appears to be.

Today as I was walking by Wells Fargo I witnessed a young woman doing a simple act of kindness. She was average height, average build, with a splash of green in her spikey medium length hair. In her hands were two carry out containers, and it was clear by her angle as she crossed 16th that she had just headed out of Illegal Petes. She headed up to a large man who had been sitting, bundled up in an old fraying red winter coat. I knew this man, or I should say I recognized him. For as long as I can remember, which isn’t that long of a tenure downtown, he has sat on a few select benches on 16th street on most every day I walk it. His favorite spots are across from the Tattered Cover, or just in front of Wells Fargo Bank.

He is often sleeping, or at least resting quietly with his eyes closed. He never bothers anyone, at least that I have seen, and only on the rarest occasion do I see him speaking with someone else who has joined his bench. I don’t know who he is, I don’t even know his name. I don’t know how he ended up sitting there, if he has any family. He may have studied art, fought in a war, worked as a chef, or traveled the world. I don’t know anything about him, and I have seen him most every day I have walked down 16th.

So this wonderful and kind young lady walks up to him and hands him the packages of food. She quickly explains that “this container has two tacos and this container has…” and walks back across the street to meet her friend and they depart. The man unties the hood that has concealed all but his eyes, takes his hands out of his gloves, and has a nice quiet meal while people walk by.

People walk by just like I have always done. They see him but they don’t see him. There is not contact, certainly no interaction. Of course I know what else could happen. Most everyone has a story of being harassed on the street. Of being made to feel uncomfortable or scared at some point. So the risk is avoided, and we walk by. I also know that there are studies and signs explaining how giving money or support doesn’t help. I understand this, or I should say I trust that I would if I read the studies. But somehow, this kind act I witnessed has made me remember something. This person, who I have seen every day and who I have never seen bother anyone is a person. And although it might be a small token, perhaps bringing him a meal after 99% of the people he sees ignore him made his day. And perhaps I will remember that the next time I see someone I see every day, someone whose day I might make a bit better, I will take the same risk.

And yes, I know that giving to the organizations that help people is supposed to be a better way. Yet this moment captured my attention in a different way as well.

They are not all empty benches.

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