Student experiences homeless life on street
Commentary by Tom Daniels

Filled with shame and humiliation, holding a cardboard sign with the words, “Will work for food” written in black grease pencil, I stand on a street corner specially selected for the high traffic volume leaving the Kroger market parking lot.

I’m dressed in an old, worn pair of camouflage pants and a faded black moth-eaten T-shirt. Topping off my ridiculous ensemble is my “Desert Storm Veteran” cap. I’m here to experience first-hand what street beggars endure during their attempts to secure their next meal.

I stand here as the rain dampens my clothing, carefully observing everyone around me. When they think I’m not looking, people trapped by the red traffic light stare at the poor fool who is too inept or lazy to find a job. But when I glance up to look them in the eye, they hastily turn their heads as if to hide their embarrassment from this blemish on society. They sit in their steel shelters looking anxious, wanting to be freed from the close proximity of the city’s scum, waiting to escape and yearning to secure the freedom the green light will bring.

Other people are not so caught up in their own vulnerability. I’m particularly impressed with the courage displayed by a group of teen-agers as they shout obscenities from their moving vehicle, informing me of the hiring status at McDonald’s. Out of one BMW, a handful of pennies, nickels and dimes is dropped in the street. Bending down to claim my newfound wealth, I can hear the occupants laughing hysterically, as a pack of hyenas might sound after a successful kill.

“Here,” one lady yells from her Mercedes as she flashes a one-dollar bill from her partially cracked window. I say, “thank you,” as I accept the alms, but I’m dismissed with a wave of her hand, so I retreat back to my curb. I watch her sit in her $60,000 car, with a smug expression of arrogance on her face, as if to say “I just single-handedly saved the world and now I will go to heaven.”

The money continues to trickle in and I continue my pessimistic observations. After about 2 1/2 hours of humbling myself to the public, a man approaches me dressed much the same as myself, holding a sign of his own that says, “Hungry with family of 3, please help.” He politely asks me if I am finished because he needs his corner back. Feeling ashamed, I apologize and relinquish command of the plebeian’s sympathy to him.

As I watch this new addition to the street corner I begin to ask myself how many times have I been the lady in the Mercedes or the person who longed for the green light to take me away. I start to fill with self-loathing. I wonder what I can do to help those who stand on their corners, with their signs, showing the world their shame. I begin to ponder what drives people in today’s America to be reduced to having to beg to support themselves and their families.

The current social welfare system provides food stamps, cash assistance and medical vouchers to needy families, but the homeless don’t qualify for these programs. Much of the money allotted to state and federal public assistance programs is wasted on the many bureaucrats required to administer the complicated over-regulated system. Every year the federal government gives billions of dollars to foreign countries to strengthen their economies, build shelters for their poor, provide medical attention and feed their starving. Yet today you can’t pick up a newspaper without seeing a public interest story about the homeless in our own country.

There are many stories about those who make the signs and stand on the corners just for the money and are not really needy at all. But these scam artists are the minority, or at least I would like to believe they are. We may never know which of these citizens are dishonest and which are truly in need, but as a civilized culture we cannot continue to ignore the plight of the poor in our own nation. Each person in his or her own way can make a difference, whether it is through volunteer work, voting, offering yard work for pay or donations to charities that will help a person get back on his feet. I can’t help but note that not once during my experience did someone offer me a job.

Tom Daniels is a sophomore English major from Fort Worth. Tom’s column can be seen every Thursday and he can be contacted at (b.t.daniels@student.tcu.edu).

credits

TCU Daily Skiff © 2002