Transients and Crazys and Connections

These past few weeks have been sobering in a lot of ways. I've been temping with an agency and I've been fortunate in my only two placements: one at a distance learning university and the other at a non-profit that provides health care to homeless folks. The work is by no means satisfying, but it is work and I understand the importance of what they are doing.

In coming back to the United States, I have grown accustomed to thinking of myself as a "transient" since I have never stayed long enough in one community to consider myself a part of it or to establish roots there, so in ways I've found it amusing to work with a very transient population: the homeless. It also made me behave a bit nicer than I would have when a homeless man came and sat next me to last week at a Dunkin' Donuts while I was waiting to start my other job at a fundraising company and started making conversation:

Him: Miss! Excuse me miss! How are you today?
Me: (looks down at hot chocolate)
Him: Miss! Can I sit here miss!
Me: (looks up to make sure he is in fact speaking to me) Sure.
Him: Miss! How are you today?
Me: (shrugs shoulders) Okay.
Him: Just okay?
Me: (nods)
Him: Excuse me, miss, are you married?
Me: (what is this guy, Ukrainian?) (Shakes head to indicate no)
Him: Do you have a boyfriend?
Me: (shrugs shoulders--note: it's a confusing time on all fronts of life)
Him: What?
Me: I don't know
Him: What do you mean you don't know? Did you fight or something?
Me: (shakes head no) What about you? Are you married?
Him: No. I haven't found the right lady yet... I keep looking.
Me: (shakes head yes, looks at watch) Well, I gotta get to work
Him: Oh yeah, where you work?
Me: Um. Down the street.
Him: No, what do you do?
Me: Uh. I, uh...I um... Make phone calls.
Him: You're a telemarketer? What do you sell?
Me: I, uh, don't sell anything.
Him: No? What is it that you are doing then?
Me: We fundraise for different causes.
Him: What kinda causes?
Me: You know, progressive ones.
Him: Okay, pretend I'm on the phone. (holds hand to ear like he's on the phone)
Me: I'm embarassed.
Him: No, please Miss, give me your speil.
Me: No, really, it's embarrassing.
Him: PLEASE Miss! Please! Give me your speil.
Me: No, really, I'm embarrassed.
Him: Look, I won't even look at you, I'll look away (moves body and turns head)
Me: Hello, I'm calling on behalf of the DNC..
Him: (interupting) The WHO?
Me: The Democratic National Committee...
Him: (interupting again) The Democratic WHAT?
Me: (trying to be as quiet as possible) The Democratic National Committee. Would you like to renew your membership for $100?
Him: Sure!
Me: Okay, now I have to read a bunch of other stuff. (Gets up to leave)
Him: No, what kind of stuff!
Me: Are you a US citizen or permanent legal alien?
Him: Yeah.
Me: This money is not tax deductible, and there is a lot of other stuff, I should go.
Him: Okay.
Me: Well, have a nice day!


While this whole scene was completely and utterly embarrassing for me (if I arrive early, I always hit up this DD for hot chocolate and this man was unbelieveably loud) it made me draw a few comparisions:

American homeless people are everywhere and make conversation with ordinary folks, usually asking for money or just wanting to make small talk, like this man. In Ukraine, people who were destitute were usually little old women who could not live on their miserably small pensions. They would typically hang around churches or busy parts of town, sit on their knees, put out a small jar and a picture of some saint and pray or sing or call out "help me, girl, help me please, give me some money" as you pass by. There were also disabled men who would do the same, and one who even started calling me a "little hare" which is not anywhere near as sweet as you think it is. But they didn't bother to make this kind of small talk like the man who spoke with me at the Dunkin Donuts.

Also, in truth, I did not notice as many homeless people in Ukraine. The homeless in American cities are about as common as rats in the T, and that folks, is a lot. (Which also makes me want to note that I NEVER saw a rat in any metro stop in Kyiv, St. Petersburg, or Moscow and those places are all colder than Boston..) It has left me wondering why. It is true that famial ties in Ukraine are 90 times stronger than in America. Someone would be found to help take care of you. Or, perhaps you'd just drink yourself to death. Perhaps because we are also so accustomed to living with so much, that when you find yourself in a situation where you can't afford any of it, the small things you do have just slip away from you, and quickly. Of course then there are other reasons, mental health and addiction being a major one, I doubt that America has that many more crazy folks or drunks than Ukraine. And of course, if people are "different" in Ukraine, they usually aren't seen in public at all, but housed away--but I guess you could make the argument that it's better to be locked up than on the street?

Also, it made me a lot more anxious. I talked a little bit about what happened once I got to work and my supervisor just looked at me like I was the crazy one. "I know," I replied, "I'm a sucker..." But it's just that it's easy to ignore someone when you literally don't understand them. It's hard to see what is going on all around you and understand it and still not want to be human and respond.

It makes me wonder as a society if we have become desensatized to homeless folks...