Giving Change

Before New York I’d only seen relatively few homeless people. I’d visited Boston a few times and seen a few. I always gave up the change I had. New York was different. I’d see the same sad face of a woman begging every day walking to school. I’d hear the rants of another as I ventured back from my class, another in Union Square would stop me. They seemed to be everywhere and all equally miserable. I still can’t get over seeing a person so hopeless, so far away from luck that they had no one and nothing. What ached me the most was that I changed, and no longer gave change, as I stayed longer in the city I changed.

When I first came to New York I would give up the few cents that I had jingling in my pocket. I would always give up the cigarette I didn’t actually need. I was more sympathetic and much more generous. As the weeks and months went by however I became just another person who ignored their signs, passed by them without looking at them. I was continually told that, “you don’t have to give every one of them something, they’ll just spend it on booze.” So I stopped reaching into my pocket and forced my eyes to stare straight ahead. I regret this.

On the last day that I was in the city, after cleaning my dorm room and moving out I walked the streets. My roommates and I had always kept a jar that we filled with spare changed that we never spent. All year it sat on my desk collect silver that would never be used. I think it was our ego’s that never cashed the change in. We thought it was embarrassing to bring in change to a store. I never used the change and probably never would. I decided almost selfishly to make up for my recent inability to give. I filled my pockets with the silver and started to walk.

I walked first down 6^th Avenue where I knew the woman I passed everyday would be sitting with her tattered sign. I gave her the most. I reached in my front pocket and took out the handful of quarters I had collected. As I poured them into her open hands her face lit up. I can’t describe this to do justice to her expression. The change none of gave a shit about, that we were embarrassed to use, made this woman ecstatic. I continued on and did the same for another five people. Each had the same response. They couldn’t believe being given just five dollars in quarters, just change. Maybe they spent the five dollars of beer or cigarettes. To tell you the truth I don’t really care what it was spent on. I hope that maybe they felt a little something akin to happiness. I still could’ve given more, I regret that.

I just can’t help but think that these people on the street must have lost so much. I would have to lose my entire family, all my friends, and probably even more to be put in that situation. They’ve lost much more than I could ever imagine so giving them something back seems minimal in comparison. I left New York with a good feeling. It felt shitty that I got some joy from giving so little and feeling good about my self for one good deed, but I’m still glad I experienced a homeless mans smile.