Try and forget all the ways we let ourselves get away

I'm offered to buy-in on some snazzy little trinkets, even a few discounted DVDs, candles for fundraisers, etc. The newspaper ads make a vain attempt to lure me with sale prices on spring fashions. My hospital scrubs and shoes could use an update. And then I see these cuties...

But it doesn't matter. I can't do it. Not until I donate more stuff first. I mean, I DO need footwear.

But...

• There's the woman struggling to feed her two young children while her husband is out working at a job where he doesn't even make $11.00/hour with no insurance. That is their only income and it is far too much to receive public assistance in the way of foodstamps for her kids.


• Recalling the woman who has done everything possible to get a job for over three years after a lay off has finally landed a job at an agricultural nursery. She doesn't mention the searing pain in her feet due to a medical condition that requires surgery to the employer, happy that she has a job, even for four weeks.


• Or the man that cried to me when he was taken to the hospital after being found in the bushes. He had less than seven dollars in his pocket and that was not enough for a taxi ride. He was either homeless or half a step away, indicating that pretty much all of what he had in the world was in a messenger bag slung low on his hip. His remaining option was to walk. With his cane, and a head injury.


• Some stop and ask for directions or general questions when they see me. Often their clothes have many days worth of soil on them, their teeth in various states of decay, hair obviously cut by each other. They debate for what seems to be an eternity at the vending machines when I realize that this one choice must meet the needs of several people. They don't have money for more than a few sips or bites for each.


• The shoes with duct tape are almost as common as those without. Shoes cost money and a pair purchased at a deep discount store will see that duct tape much faster. Patchwork purses with the owner's name written on the outside often accompany a section of PVC pipe modified to be used as a cane.

More often than not I hear snippets of conversations when I'm out and about that are very hard to deal with. On the job, there is more time spent, waiting for the elevators, near patient rooms. People make eye contact, talk to me and I'm always kind in return; that means I hear more than many. At work, I know that if they are at the hospital, somebody is being faced with something not-so-positive. I make every effort to simply see and hear them as I believe that is all anybody ever really wants.

Lately, this is happening closer and closer to home. Two of those examples are members of my family. The others are ones I've seen or heard about. I live in the corroding remains of the rust belt and as each day goes by, I see less and less hope for this area as a whole. Money for basics is gone. My heart breaks to hear someone decline a 60 cent cup of coffee, not because they are frugal, but because they simply don't have it. I can sense it eating at their soul, stomping upon the small amount of pride they had when they walked through the door. It kills me that I can't make it better for them.

Every day I see just how easy it would be to become homeless. Let me tell you, it takes alot less than you might think. I don't know if I avoid spending when unnecessary because I'm conscientious, fearful, or guilt ridden by the things I see all around me.