July 15, 2005
The other day, while driving in the Bronx, I saw a man standing near the street corner. He stood there with one foot in the street and the other on the sidewalk, holding up a sign which read: “I need a cold beer.” This was the simple sentence scrawled with crayon on a jagged piece of cardboard. As he held the sign, he smiled to the passing motorists, but his dirty clothing, swollen hands, and red, watery red eyes told a much different story.
As I slowly approached the corner, I recognized this man from a brief encounter we had well over a year ago. Our early morning encounter was last summer on the entrance ramp to the George Washington Bridge. I remember it being a very hot morning because all of his potential benefactors where sitting comfortably in their air-conditioned cars.
Since I don’t care for air-conditioning, my windows were wide open and I could observe him walking from car to car showing the drivers his sign. At that time it said something like, “Hungry and Homeless – Help!” I suspect at some time he changed his message – finding that the honest, direct approach was more “driver friendly”, and thereby more financially lucrative.
As the friars reside in neighborhoods noted for poverty, it doesn’t take long for even our novices from the Midwest to become street-smart. Policy dictates that cash is rarely given out at the friary door or in the street. It is not uncommon, however, for friars to pack a few extra sandwiches for the poor before hopping on a subway or heading out on a day trip. Well, this day I had nothing – not even an apple! As my car slowly crept forward in the traffic, it was “my turn”. He was evidently thrilled to see my wide open window. I quickly looked for some spare change but couldn’t find a dime. That’s when I took note of the lime green plastic rosaries dangling from my rear view mirror.
You would have thought he would be put off by my gift, but rather, his eyes immediately widened and as he reached for the rosaries gave me a big, bright smile and said, “Thanks, bro!” Evidently he recognized my religious habit, perhaps being a veteran recipient of some other friar’s act of charity.
Well, this brief, almost incidental encounter quickly passed through my mind as I was now approaching him again almost one year later. There he was, “my friend”, with a new message, but still sporting a “hey buddy, can ya help me” look. This time, however, as there was no slow line of traffic, there would be no time for any social interaction – at least so I thought. As I drove toward the corner, he evidently recognized me. His pathetic sad-sack face broke open with widened eyes and a big smile. We both immediately, almost instinctively, reacted by sticking out our hands to slap one another’s hand. He yelled “hey bro!” as I yelled “how ya doin!”
Our “reunion” lasted a good three seconds, however, what it lacked in length, it made up in depth. This very brief mid-morning encounter on the road made me feel very happy. As I continued to drive, I felt warm inside – like something wonderfully human happened. It was not only that this homeless man remembered me, but perhaps it was that in some small way a small act of kindness had such a good effect.
This is not a touching story about a priest being kind to a homeless alcoholic, but rather the opposite. It is a lesson which teaches us that despite life’s painful twists and turns, people have the capacity to look up and recognize each other – and love.
Fr. Glenn Sudano, CFR
________________________________________
www.franciscanfriars.com
comments: fromthefriars@
franciscanfriars.com
