It was Christmastime. The snow was falling, bells were ringing, and I was walking to Provigo to obtain my weekly family-sized box of Honey Nut Cheerios.  Not too long before, a heart-warming news story had originated from just down the Hudson—New York policeman Lawrence DePrimo was spotted by a tourist, offering a homeless, shoeless man on the street a pair of brand new, one hundred dollar boots.  The woman at the scene documented the tender moment, and her cell phone image quickly went viral.

Just in time for Christmas, DePrimo’s act of kindness reflected the warmth we feel in our hearts that time of year, and see in the artificial, sensory-amplified warmth of annual blockbuster holiday films which contain similar imagery.

“Meghan, you’re a terrible person! That police officer did a noble deed,” you may say, to which I would reply “What? I don’t even know you,” but then qualify my previous statement by agreeing with you on all counts. Lawrence DePrimo did something many of us urbanites would never do. This is exactly my point.

The salt crunched under my boots against the grimy sidewalk, and I was pretty absorbed in some folk-revival-hipster-nonsense playing on my iPod.  But when I finally reached the grocery store, an alarming scene caused me to postpone my entrance, and take out my ear buds.  In fact, I couldn’t enter the store, because a homeless man usually seen stationed outside was refusing to leave his new position inside the entrance-way. The store managers had a problem with this.

[pullquote]Unfortunately, our knowledge of their situation is limted by our hesitant, downward glances, and a passive “No, sorry” in response to quieted pleas.[/pullquote]

As the man clung to the tile floor desperately protesting his removal, an employee held the outside door open, another stood guard at the door to the inside, and as others tried to push him out amongst yells and cries from both sides, a worker threatened to call the police.  It was terrifying, sad, and uncomfortable, all at the same time.

I wasn’t about to leap over the ongoing scene, so I decided to take a lap around the block.  The issue of homelessness, as presented in the features section of last week’s issue of the Tribune, encompasses more than just poverty, assumptive addiction, or skeptical con-artistry.  Certainly the principal issue, regardless of what afflicts the people we see living on the street every day, is the poor condition of their accommodations (or lack thereof).  Unfortunately, our knowledge of their situation is limited by our hesitant, downward glances and a passive “No, sorry” in response to quieted pleas.

In an ideal world, we give to the poor, we put our loose change in the bucket, and we don’t ignore the people calling for help.  On TV and in the media, we see it all the time: Oprah Gives Thousands to Chicago Schools!  Justin Bieber Spends Afternoon With Cancer Patient!  Angelina Jolie Adopts Infant From Another Obscure Third World Country!  While celebrities, Christmas classics, and the occasional sensational news story have good intentions, they also glamourize philanthropic feats unattainable to the everyday person.

It’s unrealistic for many to dedicate even minor parts of their lives to charity, yet the issue remains in the manner we each choose to face this dilemma that literally stares us in the face on a daily basis.  Why are we often so compelled to save our change, and not help those who appear in need? The people who we walk past on the street are inevitably present in our everyday lives; while their condition is disheartening, their assertiveness can, quite frankly, be frightening and uncomfortable.  We don’t know them, and as previously mentioned, we can’t be sure of their intentions.  If I’m walking down a street alone at night and a strange man follows me, asking for money, I feel I should not have to pay for my privacy.  But when politely asked, is it morally suitable to walk on without a glance? Why can’t we all be Lawrence DePrimo?

When I returned to Provigo about 10 minutes later, the entrance was clear, the doors standing unblocked in glossy silence.  There were no lingering souls near the stoop, or propped up against the outer brick wall.  I bought my Cheerios, and made sure to cherish every golden “O” in my possession.