Homeless Need Help

I’m a “Site Coordinator” for a tutoring company called Tutor Plus, but tats not really important. At the end of the two and a half hours that I work on Tuesdays Zaenab, the “Site Manager”, asked me if I would be going through Harvard Square on my way back home. When I said I would be, she asked me if I would be willing to take the extra sandwiches of the day to the homeless who rest their heads there.

I got off the bus at the usual stop, Holyoke Gate. Before, riding the bus down the street, I saw a man in a heavy coat sitting on the corner, my first victim.

“’Evening sir. Can I interest you in a few sandwiches?”

“What kind have you got?” Came from somewhere between his mustache and his beard.

I ended up giving him two roast beef and one turkey sandwich. We spoke for a bit. I asked about his life; he asked about mine; normal conversation for two people who are getting acquainted. Before long he looked up from where he was sitting and asked if I was in a hurry and when I said no he asked if I could watch his few belongings while he took a trip to the bathroom.

I stood there alone looking at the spot where he had just been sitting. He had made himself a seat there, which consisted of a sleeping bag and a blanket, folded and placed inside of a black trash bag that rested on top of a backpack. This makeshift chair was located next to a bookstore and behind his sign which read “HOMELESS need help”.

I sat down in his chair deciding that I wanted to keep it warm for him. I realized I was going to get weird looks. Here’s a young guy wearing a nice leather coat with headphones around his neck … who’s homeless? No, that doesn’t quite add up.

I found myself amazed when no on took notice of me. You see, people almost turned their heads as they walked by. No one wants to make eye contact with the homeless. No one wants to stare deep into the darkness.

I looked up and saw him looking down at me, chuckling. I stood up, laughed at myself, and admitted, “I just wanted to keep your seat warm.” He thanked me and pointed out what it was comprised of before he sat back down, lowering his head.

He looked back up and asked me what my name was. I said it was Shane and extended my hand. Seeming quite surprised he looked up at me, gently clasped my hand with his and said his name was Allister.

During a conversation that started by Allister asking me where I am from, I said, “Luckily I have a roof over my head but I come from a very lower class family. My house is basically a bunch of wood that my grandfather and a group of his friends nailed together and put shingles on top.” Awkward chuckle…

“What do your parents do?”

“My mom actually makes less money than I do. She works in a factory.”

“Wow, working class huh? What does she do in the factory?”

“They label bottles, bottles of water, Windex, floor cleaners, stuff like that.”

“How about your dad”

“My parents are actually divorced, but he’s disabled because he has Hepatitis C.”

“Does he work?”

“No, he can’t, he’s too sick.”

“Does he get help from the state?”

“Yes, thankfully, though it’s not nearly enough. He’s behind on all his bills; he doesn’t even have heat in his house; he uses an electric space heater instead.”

“Wow. I am sorry to hear that about your dad. But you just have to keep looking up and hoping for the best, you know?” He sounded like me grandfather, Manny, to me.

I smiled and eased the conversation into its conclusion before heading deeper into Harvard Square. I got to “The Pit” and saw a man with a pointed beard leaning on a cane. When I asked him if he would like any sandwiches he said, “I don’t now, we might.” as he turned to the woman in the corner and said, “Hey Bee, do we need any sandwiches?” When she said yes I reached in my bag to give him a few and he said, “To the wife please” and smiled. I’ll never forget that.

The next man I found was someone I had seen before. He usually stands outside of the 24-hour CVS politely asking for change. He tried to turn me down but I walked away with three less sandwiches.

The last guy, who I decided would be the last because I was freezing (I know I shouldn’t complain), was also someone I had seen. He stands in front of a church and is so cordial that he almost bows as he asked every passerby the same thing:

“Do you have any change you could spare? Perhaps a –“

“No but I do have sandwiches. Would you like them?” Holding up the bag.

“Oh, certainly. That is a lot though isn’t it?”

“No, its fine, I already gave out a bunch of them.”

He thanked me before I smiled and walked away. We made eye contact when I looked back.

- Shane