At this point, I am working on my fifth rewrite of this particular post.
It started with me being at the library again today seeking a respite from the heat (it was 104 degrees) but also hoping to run into Willie (in the wheelchair) and continuing my conversation with him. I did in fact see Willie and my subsequent conversation has clarified my thinking a bit and my initial intent for this particular post was to go into detail about that, Simply put, it's not about me - and the story that I choose to use to solicit funds shouldn't be about me either. And this post was going to concentrate on that - how the story was going to change. But even that would be making it about me - which is something I want to repudiate.
As I was finishing my conversation with Willie, I caught sight of a woman entering the library. A year ago, I wouldn't have even noticed her, whereas now, my mind instantly noted all the details that prompted me to categorize her as homeless. The fact that I now possess this awareness deserves a dedicated post of its own. But what is most remarkable about this particular event is how I was affected by the facial expression that I'd characterize as a mixture of sadness, apprehension & fear and the empathy in my own response. And in that moment, it hit me, though it's taken me hours to come up with the words; it's about the people out there who are in need and the kind of good that can be done.
So I'm going to rewrite the description to make it about the people I'm helping. If my story comes to light, it will be because someone else feels that the story is worth sharing.
Monday, September 26, 2016
Monday, September 19, 2016
Another Guy In A Wheelchair
I have a different story today involving another person in a motorized wheelchair.
I'm actually still at the Pasadena Public Library as I post this. I came here to do some studying in air conditioned comfort (despite it being late September, it's still 90 degrees out here in LA).
There was a gentleman whizzing around the library lobby in a motorized wheelchair. I didn't pay him much attention until he engaged in conversation a woman standing near my table. It seems that the woman was homeless and had started attending a local church where this gentleman is an active member. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I began to listen more intently as this guy who introduced himself as Willie told this woman that if she was a member of their church, the church would take care of her, though it would be a process and the results would not be immediate. The first thing to be done was to get her connected to a female member of the church (because it would be inappropriate for a male) who could take her dirty clothes and get them laundered once a week. And as it was nearly lunchtime, he told her where she could get lunch today if she wanted to, but didn't have to. And he kept repeating that she wasn't alone in this anymore.
I was struck by how he extended dignity and hope with his words, and I found myself being very aware of how ungracious my typically snarky words can be when I'm at the park. In typical Asian fashion, I've rationalized this by pointing that my being there should be enough given how no one else would return given how I almost got killed doing this. More on this later.
I approached him and told him how struck I was by how he extended hope and dignity with his actions and speech and how inadequate I felt having witnessed that even though I make dinner for the homeless on a weekly basis. We talked about a number of things I'm not going to go into depth about, but our conversation turned to our passions for what we both do and so it came out that I continue to pursue this passion despite how I nearly died doing it.
While I was touched by his speech, apparently he was equally touched by my story and the result was that he now wants to enter into a partnership of sorts where we begin to meet regularly just to talk, and how I might become the first link in a chain that helps homeless people reintegrate into society. I am of course blown away by all of this. What gives me pause is his response that my story should be publicized more than it has been. If anything, most people DON'T want to hear the story as it typically makes them uncomfortable though I'm not sure what it is exactly. Part of it is obvious to me - some people just don't want to face the idea that their lives aren't...'safe' for want of a better way to put it. I think others are put off by how I keep telling the story almost as a comedy monologue - as I keep saying, once you get past the initial premise, most of the story IS pretty funny - EVERYBODY laughs at my assigned name Gustavo Perez.
The idea that my story could somehow be inspirational has never really occurred to me (though I've often speculated with substantial snark how I'd be a CNN poster boy if I'd been of any other faith; "THIS JUST IN: MUSLIM/ATHEIST/WICCAN HEROICALLY CONTINUES TO FEED HOMELESS DESPITE NEARLY GETTING THROAT SLASHED BY CRAZED BOX CUTTER BRANDISHING WOMAN CLAIMING TO HEAR VOICES FROM GOD"). The reality is that if my mom finds out I that I nearly died she'll have a major spazz attack. The 'official' story I told her initially over the phone was that I was hit in the neck by accident during a church function - which it more or less true as far as it goes. I waited five months to tell her when I finally saw her in person when I went back to Ohio to visit - and only that I'd been stabbed in the neck and not that the anterior branch of my carotid had been severed. The entire time I was in the hospital, I greeted every person entering the room - doctor, nurse, visitor, whatever with the same question: "How do I tell my mom what happened to me?" I guess the point is the thought has been that publicizing the details would result primarily in more stress than anything else.
I guess the bottom line is that I'm going to have to live with the idea that should I choose to bring attention to what happened to me, some people will view it as self-aggrandizing when the hope is to be motivational.
I'm actually still at the Pasadena Public Library as I post this. I came here to do some studying in air conditioned comfort (despite it being late September, it's still 90 degrees out here in LA).
There was a gentleman whizzing around the library lobby in a motorized wheelchair. I didn't pay him much attention until he engaged in conversation a woman standing near my table. It seems that the woman was homeless and had started attending a local church where this gentleman is an active member. I didn't mean to eavesdrop, but I began to listen more intently as this guy who introduced himself as Willie told this woman that if she was a member of their church, the church would take care of her, though it would be a process and the results would not be immediate. The first thing to be done was to get her connected to a female member of the church (because it would be inappropriate for a male) who could take her dirty clothes and get them laundered once a week. And as it was nearly lunchtime, he told her where she could get lunch today if she wanted to, but didn't have to. And he kept repeating that she wasn't alone in this anymore.
I was struck by how he extended dignity and hope with his words, and I found myself being very aware of how ungracious my typically snarky words can be when I'm at the park. In typical Asian fashion, I've rationalized this by pointing that my being there should be enough given how no one else would return given how I almost got killed doing this. More on this later.
I approached him and told him how struck I was by how he extended hope and dignity with his actions and speech and how inadequate I felt having witnessed that even though I make dinner for the homeless on a weekly basis. We talked about a number of things I'm not going to go into depth about, but our conversation turned to our passions for what we both do and so it came out that I continue to pursue this passion despite how I nearly died doing it.
While I was touched by his speech, apparently he was equally touched by my story and the result was that he now wants to enter into a partnership of sorts where we begin to meet regularly just to talk, and how I might become the first link in a chain that helps homeless people reintegrate into society. I am of course blown away by all of this. What gives me pause is his response that my story should be publicized more than it has been. If anything, most people DON'T want to hear the story as it typically makes them uncomfortable though I'm not sure what it is exactly. Part of it is obvious to me - some people just don't want to face the idea that their lives aren't...'safe' for want of a better way to put it. I think others are put off by how I keep telling the story almost as a comedy monologue - as I keep saying, once you get past the initial premise, most of the story IS pretty funny - EVERYBODY laughs at my assigned name Gustavo Perez.
The idea that my story could somehow be inspirational has never really occurred to me (though I've often speculated with substantial snark how I'd be a CNN poster boy if I'd been of any other faith; "THIS JUST IN: MUSLIM/ATHEIST/WICCAN HEROICALLY CONTINUES TO FEED HOMELESS DESPITE NEARLY GETTING THROAT SLASHED BY CRAZED BOX CUTTER BRANDISHING WOMAN CLAIMING TO HEAR VOICES FROM GOD"). The reality is that if my mom finds out I that I nearly died she'll have a major spazz attack. The 'official' story I told her initially over the phone was that I was hit in the neck by accident during a church function - which it more or less true as far as it goes. I waited five months to tell her when I finally saw her in person when I went back to Ohio to visit - and only that I'd been stabbed in the neck and not that the anterior branch of my carotid had been severed. The entire time I was in the hospital, I greeted every person entering the room - doctor, nurse, visitor, whatever with the same question: "How do I tell my mom what happened to me?" I guess the point is the thought has been that publicizing the details would result primarily in more stress than anything else.
I guess the bottom line is that I'm going to have to live with the idea that should I choose to bring attention to what happened to me, some people will view it as self-aggrandizing when the hope is to be motivational.
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