I'm out of the hotel early this morning, 6:00, and off to Starbucks for the obligatory tall nonfat vanilla latte before a busy day of flying. The streets of Oakland are pretty quiet. It's still dark and cool, maybe 40. There are a few people getting an early start setting up in the street for the Friday Market that always looks so tempting whenever I happen to be there on a Friday. Starbucks is a block down the street from the hotel.....I cross over Broadway and turn left. There's a bundle of blankets, or is it a couple of heavy winter coats, with a woman all wrapped up inside...her very own (warm?) cocoon. It's her house, actually. Her hood is pulled up over her head, just her face is showing, sort of, when it's not looking down at the cold gray sidewalk. She is sitting on the ground and asks if I have any change when I pass by. I have never given a dime to anybody on the streets that I remember. Not really any real good reason for not doing it. Just have chosen not to, I guess. Sometimes I think it's a scam, or kids just trying to get a few extra bucks for pot or beer, but I know it's not always that way. Today is no different. I walk right on by her ignoring her plea. And then it hits me, just about the time I'm opening the door, smelling the pastries and hot coffee: Right now, I'm the very thing that I don't like in our world. Nicely dressed, fresh out of the hot soapy shower, clean clothes, and marching my pretty little arrogant ass into the local corporate conglomerate coffee shop to drop $3 on a drink. Not a bad thing...but sometimes I hate that part of our country....and now it's me.....I'm a part of it....I'm the one doing it.......being an active participant in separating myself from "those other people." So, I order and wait. I turn and look outside through the well decorated windows and see the back of her head outside. She has taken over my mind....all without doing a thing. Wonder how long she's been there? Is she there all of the time? Maybe that's "her spot." The coffee comes up for "Lewis" and I'm off....back outside with a dollar bill in my hand, folded up neatly, to give to her when I pass by her again. I'm still trying to avoid eye contact as I walk directly toward her.....why? I don't know. So, I slip her the dollar and keep on moving. She says nothing. And it happens again...the cynicism rears its ugly head...and I say "you're welcome" to her because she didn't thank me...and keep on walking toward the hotel. Just trying to remind her that she should say "thank you" when given something. On my right, I'm passing an old beat-up pickup that has pulled over to the curb and is putting up a homemade sign on butcher paper along the side of the pickup: "Live Chickens." The back of the truck is filled with four or five huge steel chicken cages filled with what are supposed to be live chickens. They don't look alive to me. Ick. I'm disgusted and turn my head away. Back to thinking about the girl. And quickly reminded of my sister who spent a good portion of her life on the streets, begging, sleeping rolled up in cardboard for the night under a Rhododendron bush. Thank god she's not there any longer. I wonder if people helped her? I wonder if assholes like me walked on by her or thought less-than-positive thoughts about her. Or if they said "you're welcome" to her if she forgot to say "thanks." God, I hope not. I've thought about this girl for the rest of my day. It occurred to me that she was probably afraid to say anything to me after I totally ignored her on my initial way into get my rich white boy gay coffee. There always seems to be a struggle between my head and my heart. An internal Iraq war going on...based on bad intelligence sometimes, I think. I always try to remind myself that I never know what journey the other person is on. Who they are, where they've come from, or where they are going. Hell, maybe they don't even know. I do know that 2007 is going to be a different year for me. There may even be a stash of dollar bills in my pocket.
