My friend John and I were headed back to my house on I-35W after a few games of racquetball, giggling and chortling over some sexual-related, exaggerated-tall-tale riff. (Well, it’s either that or fecal-related jokes. Pick one.) When we got to the top of the 46th St. exit ramp, there was a youngish guy wrapped in winter clothes standing there with a brown cardboard sign. Now, that’s not uncommon for people to be asking for money at the exit ramp. They’ll hold a sign that says, “Homeless, please help” or “Former Vet, Whatever You Can Give.”

This guy’s sign said…well…you guessed it already.

Because we didn’t have to stop at the light, John and I zoomed past the guy. But the sign - his youth - the coldness of standing at that exit ramp on a day like today…it took my breath away. At the next stoplight John and I talked about the sign. “Totally desperate.” Wow. Those words are so heartfelt, so painful. So utterly naked. What are the circumstances of your life when you write those words on a cardboard sign, and hold it over your head at the 46th St. exit, pleading for change? I can’t imagine.

No, really, I can’t imagine.

My life is such that if I lost my house and employment, I could turn to my friends. Probably quite a few of them would be willing to help. Or my folks - I could move back in to their home (for their sakes and mine, please O Mighty Universe, let this not come to pass; I can’t handle that much Wheel of Fortune; they can’t handle my grouchy-in-underwear- mornings). But if these weren’t options, I could live in a homeless shelter and work at McDonalds until I found something better. And who am I kidding? I have thousands of warrior brothers around the country - and even outside the USA - who would probably - sight unseen - agree to let me stay with them until I got back on my feet. I have a marketable Masters degree, so even the worst case scenario, I’d have opportunities.

My point is that I’ve had enough love, friends, and overall life-success that I could manage some form of recovery. But to be standing out there with a sign that says “Totally Desperate…” Yow.

The cynic in me says, ‘That’s probably the wording that gets the most suckers to give him cash.’ And yeah, it worked with me. I drove back there about a half hour later and gave him $20. I don’t have expectations as to how he’ll spend it, nor do I have illusions this is going to solve his problems. Perhaps I did it more for me.

I’ve been thinking about this guy all afternoon. One of the things that occurred to me an hour ago is that my New Year’s Resolutions are waaaaaaay to “me-focused.” I think it’s great to be focused on personal growth; I don’t want to eliminate that aspect. I want another set of resolutions that expand my mission in the world, focusing on how to be of service.

How do I find a way to be with those who are ‘totally desperate?’ (Not ’save,’ not ‘cure,’ not ‘fix’…) but rather just to BE WITH.

Hmmmmm. As I ponder this, I’m realizing that there have been times in my life when I felt totally desperate. Alone. Lost. Lucky for me, I had people to turn to, ways of creating options.

Today, a man announced that he was homeless and totally desparate at the 46th Street offramp.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, January 10th, 2007 at 4:45 pm and is filed under Warrior. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.