We See Them....

[wilomn]

I put this one here in this forum instead of the creative corner because I am interested in what you guys would do too. It's not so much descriptive piece as it is introspective one. This happened last winter, or what passes for winter out here.

I had it up on Fauna last year and it generated some interesting thoughts.
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We See Them

The ones that don't fit.

The Vet on the offramp. The homeless guy in the Super Market parking lot. The lady with the cart full of plastic bags and newspapers. The legless guy in the wheelchair at the gas station. The descriptions are endless.

How did they get where they are? Too much substance abuse? Insurance run out at the psyche facility? Too independent to accept help, or what passes for help? Just born unable to cope or make it on their own? An accident?

Some want money. Others offer blessings. Some say nothing. Some rant. Some lie and some would tell the truth if they knew what it was.

Mostly they are alone, at least when I see them. Occasionally you'll see a pair or maybe a small group, but almost always, they are alone. Those are the extremes, edge people walking Occam’s Razor every moment of every day; likely to disappear without notice.

Then there are the ones that sort of fit. They’re not walking that edge, they try to be a part of the whole that we as a group bring into existence, but sadly fail. They’re the not-quite-rights. Brains not quite functioning at full capacity, bodies lacking in the ability to function as fully as most, bent or twisted limbs, malformed or unusually shaped, almost able to care for themselves. They’re smart enough to know that they don’t quite fit in.

Group homes are all a lot of these folks know.

There was a man in a parking lot today. He walked with a hitch in his step, obviously not functioning smoothly and properly the way most of us do. He walked slow too and didn't seem to be aware that my car and I were waiting for him to move out of the way. He didn’t look around as he walked, his attention was fixed on the road in front of him.

He walked slowly, every fourth or fifth step with a hitch to it, breaking the rhythm of his ambulation in front of the parking place I wanted to pull into. His arm cradling a lightweight jacket in the manner that indicated, to me, that his walking was not the only thing he did not do well, clutched in to his side, elbow held slightly behind his back and the jacket pinned between his arm and his side, not held in the hand which was curled, resembling a claw more than a regular fingered appendage.

As he crossed, the hitch regularly making his tread uneven, he pseudo-stumbled every tenth or maybe fifteenth step. The man was not faking it, he was actually stumbling but never really went all the way into a loss of balance that resulted in a fall. It was something he seemed accustomed to, something he had obviously been doing for quite some time.

I parked my car and began walking the same direction as he was. I passed him, he taking his small hitched steps with the pseudo-stumble that seemed to almost tip him over each time it occurred, and as I watched him he took his lightweight black and grey jacket out from under his arm to put it on.

His hand, the one that had resembled a claw, functioned well enough for him to manipulate the jacket, seeming to be just a normal hand so long as he did not have to wedge the jacket between his upper body and the arm the hand was attached to. I don’t think his arm bent as it should have.

It was a reversible lightweight black and grey jacket. No matter which side was out, the zipper would zip, the pockets would pocket, the hood would cover his head if he wished it too.

The thing is, when he finally got it on, and it was not the smooth motion or two most would need for so simple an action as putting on a lightweight jacket while walking across a parking lot, there were several attempts to reach behind him to grab the jacket, each of which were terribly unsuccessful, his arm just wouldn’t bend or fold enough to let him reach all the way behind him. When he finally did grab hold of it he had managed to put it on upside down without realizing that he had done so. The hood was hanging down past his rear and the band of elastic was around his shoulders. He obviously had no clue that he had managed to don his jacket this way.

I passed him by, able to ambulate much quicker and with far greater ease than he would ever manage and as I did so I wondered to myself if I should say something to him.

He was not a normal person, whatever normal is, and I pondered whether or not to say anything to him at all. After all, if he managed to put it on that way, he probably wouldn't notice anyhow and if he didn't notice anyhow, why bother to tell him? Would he be embarrassed by his upside down jacket? Was he capable of being embarrassed by his upside down jacket? Was that really the Lithium Shuffle he was doing or was he just physically unable to do as most can? Was I obligated to tell him about his inability to wear his jacket? Would he appreciate my mentioning to him that he was unable to properly dress himself? Did I really care what this guy did?

I had never seen him before. It was unlikely I would ever see him again. If I made any comment to him, it would invite further conversation and that is something I don't do with most regaurdless of their ability to walk or dress. Did I really want to talk to this guy at all?

If it were me, would I want someone to tell me that I had managed to goof up on something so simple as putting my lightweight jacket on properly? If I told him, would it obligate me to talk to him, to maybe have him hope that I would? Would that lead to him considering me someone who would then be there to talk to in the future? Why would I have such thoughts, concerns, wonderments? Is this a fault, this wanting to be helpful but not wanting to be involved; to be unable or unwilling to give enough of myself to allow that someone may be disappointed in what I didn't have, couldn't give?

Would this simple act of kindness lead him to consider me as one from who further kindness would be forthcoming? Would it be kindness to tell him and then go on my way, assuming that I would never see him again but knowing, deep down, that I would never forget him, his shuffle, his stumble, the way he clamped the jacket to his side instead of holding it in his hand or over his arm the way most guys do?

Would it be a simple act of kindness? He would have no way of knowing any of these thoughts that ran through my mind in the seconds it took me to observe him as I parked, to see him in front, beside and then behind me in a matter or moments as I stepped on past him, and yet I had them, these thoughts, and many more like them.

Suppose, like most who do not look and move the way the majority do, he had been on the receiving end of unkind words or gestures, maybe even physical meanness because of how he moved and carried not only his lightweight jacket but himself as well. Suppose my saying he had his jacket on upside down was just another in a long series of humiliations that others had heaped upon him. Not that I would mean it as such but that he would take it that way from habit, from having others treat him as less than they would someone like me; someone able to walk easily, to grab my jacket with my hand, to hear them in their car behind me, someone who was not an easy target, which he obviously was.

I've seen it many times. No doubt you have as well. Those who stick out as this man did are subject to unkind attentions. All this, all these thoughts running through my mind, many more as well but those gone to quick to make a lasting dent in my thought process, in less that 30, maybe 45 seconds.

What would you have done?

There is a follow up, a SHORT follow up, telling what I did. I'll post it up in a day or two. But I’m curious to know what you would do.

[frankykeno]

I'd just stop, quietly and discretely let the gentleman know that his jacket was on upside down and offer any assistance if he'd like to re-arrange it. I believe there are ways to offer anyone assistance without coming across like you are doing them a favor or that they can't manage or must take your help.

Maybe the real favor isn't from you to the man in this instance. Maybe the gift is that you cared enough even to notice and offer assistance (even if you end up rebuffed).

[python.princess]

very interesting ponderings... I honestly don't think I'd say anything to him. Unless he looks somewhat friendly/open- and then I still can't say for sure that I'd tell him. I know how some people can be and I'd rather not end up in the hospital for trying to help somebody with his wardrobe! I guess I just grew up with a 'better safe than sorry' motto my whole life and have pretty much stuck with it.

[dsirkle]

In the City of Detroit many such people walk the streets. Some are the type that you described. Those people are the people that were turned out on the streets when the previous Governor closed down the State Mental Institutions. Another type stands at Traffic lights with a practiced pathetic look holding signs asking for money. Those are primarily heroin addicts. Another kind is skin and bones and may be seen panhandling, prostituting themselves or just looking for something to steal. They also carry around a gas can and bum money claiming to have just run out of gas. These are the crackheads. A very small sub group is the time honored hobo. These are mostly middle aged and older men who actually hop trains to travel and spend the summers up North and the winters down South. They congregate in camps located on overgrown empty lots (Detroit has tens of thousands of these) near Churches or other entities that distribute free food to the downtrodden. They look in trash cans and dumpsters at car washes and strip malls for bottles to return for deposit. To be honest, I try to stay away from all these people. I would never give any of them money but I used to be willing to buy them fast food until I bought a man some McDonald hamburgers and fries that claimed to be starving and found him outside the door trying to sell them at 1/2 price. In Detroit such characters are plentiful on a daily basis as are abused dogs. If you tried to help each one that you saw you would have to live the life of Mother Theresa.

[Spaniard]

It would depend on the moment for me and what my gut was telling me. If I decided to approach him I would open up with a Hello to test the waters. You never know what could be wrong with people, a parnoid schizophrenic might bolt at hello thinking you're the government come to collect them. If the Hello test goes well then I would just tell him his jacket was upside down and if it bothered him, that I would be more than happy to help him fix it.

He may be willing to accept the help or may be insulted but in the end I was just trying to help. At the end of the day my conscience is clear.

[Ginevive]

I would feel compelled to say something.. I would feel it out. I'd say Hi, and if he looked at me fearfully or looked mad, I would back off. If he looked my way, I would tell him what was wrong and leave it at that; not approach or anything. See I actually feel more inclined to help a handicapped or otherwise impaired person as opposed to a fully functioning adult. Sure, I dislike the fact that some people "dug their own hole" and made themselves into derelicts when they were originally healthy. But my heart bleeds for people who are mentally or physically ill.
I Hate the gang mentality that small-minded people have against the mentally ill. At work, there's a friend of mine who is bipolar. You should hear people talk about her behind her back.. shaking my head. I have much more disdain and dislike for "normal" people than I do for the handicapped.
Now, if this person was a drug addict knowingly to me, or if I could tell through smelling it or seeing paraphanalia (like a crack pipe) I wound definately Not approach or talk to them.. you Never know what they will do, and they are desperate people, and yikes.. I am not talking about your casual pot smoker. I am talking hardcore crackhead.. stay away from them.

[wolfy-hound]

I'd probably greet and tell and offer to help.
Just me, and I'd try to look friendly and upbeat, so that even if he might have been embarrassed, hopefully it would be pushed aside by a jest or just a cheerful smile.
I've done similar things, helping a elderly lady who dropped her umbrella under her car, and was doing amazing yoga style moves trying to get it out with her arthritic body. Once it was a young man who couldn't lift his bag of dog food into his car trunk from the buggy. I'm not sure what was wrong with him, perhaps a bad back? Perhaps he had MS? Who knew? I knew he didn't seem able to do the task, so I stepped up and smiled and said "Hey. Want a hand with that?" And when he looked, I grinned bigger "Those bags are slick to grab when your hands are wet.. here.. " And I picked it up and put it in place. When he said thanks, I nodded and walked away with a "No trouble at all, hope next time, it's not so wet outside!"
Yeah.. he could have been Ted Bundy. He could have been my cousin I've never met. Who knew? I didn't.
You write very well. I did not think things through, and ponder on it. I just helped, and went on with my life. I didn't think about what it might mean to him, or how it relates to others that need help too. You are a more deep thinking person than I. I look forward to seeing the extended post.

[marmie]

I would have let him be. No harm wearing your jacket upside down and from your description that was the least of his worries.

If I thought his actions would have caused him danger or a danger to someone around him, I would have said something.

[ncbloods]

We have a lot of people like you described where I work. Every day a different one and they usually have a heart-wrenching story about why they need your money. Thing is though, around here an act of kindness is usually interpreted as an act of weakness unfortunately, and conversations with strangers is a good way to get yourself shot or robbed.

Maybe I seem cold or paranoid, but around here it's a fact of life. I wouldn't say anything to him for the same reason I carry a handgun to work with me every day. Too easy to get killed.

[marmie]

There is a follow up, a SHORT follow up, telling what I did. I'll post it up in a day or two. But I’m curious to know what you would do.

Wes?