Another day in paradise
In times of trouble
We decide what we need
What we take with us
What we leave
And how much of your answers can be believed
Nothing gonna save you if you’re deceived.
Can you live without
Water for 5 days?
Can you live without
Shopping when you get paid?
Can you live without
Having someone to blame?
Can you live without
The loser of your game?
Can you live without
This fine new car
Can you live without
Knowing exactly who you are
Did you ever doubt
You’d have your house on the hill
Can you live without
All the folks who never will?
(Guy Forsyth)
I was an adult before I saw a homeless person living in the street. I grew up in a small town, protected from the world and all its evil, cruel twists and turns. True pain and suffering were foreign to me. Sometimes I wonder if that’s why I’ve experienced some of the horrible things I have in my adult life. Did I need toughening up, or was the universe trying to teach me the invaluable lesson of not taking things for granted?
I have not always made good choices but I’ve been lucky. I have never hit bottom, that low point where there is nowhere else to go. I have never slept in a dirty alley. I have never begged for money from strangers in the street or looked for food in a dumpster.
Lots of people criticize the homeless and have turned a blind eye to those suffering right in front of them. Everyone is a human being and deserves compassion. When someone who appears to have no hope, no chance of survival, nothing to live for turns the tables and gives YOU hope, I have to wonder: Who is really the person in this picture who needs the most help?
Seven years ago, I met Julian, a/k/a “Jules,” who lived on the streets of downtown Houston. He was an addict and he gave no indication of wanting to change. By all appearances, Jules looked dangerous and like someone to avoid. Little did I know how true the statements, “Appearances can be deceiving, or “Don’t judge a book by its cover” really were. He taught me the meaning of those statements.
A complicated situation and work caused me to be walking down the street in downtown Houston around 10 p.m. one night alone. I was approached by someone who attempted to attack me and steal my purse. A man came out of the darkness and chased the attacker away. It was Jules. The person who looked more dangerous than the man attempting to mug me turned out to be the good guy.
I’ve written about Jules before. I sought him out many times to check on him, to make sure he had food and warm clothes in the winter. Sometimes I saw him passed out or still high from whatever drugs he had taken the night before. I really couldn’t judge him, because I thought that if our situations had been reversed, I would probably want to get high and escape for a few hours myself.
A few years ago, I gave Jules my cell phone number, and asked him to call me if he ever got into trouble or needed help. He never called. There were a few times that Jules ended up in the county hospital or got into trouble and another person found my phone number in his belongings, and they called me. However, he never attempted to take advantage of my help or con me. He was always honest with me about his problems, and while he never sugarcoated his situation, he also never complained when I would see him. He always took the money, toiletries or food I offered him and thanked me, but he never openly asked me for anything. In fact, most times, he was the one who had something positive or encouraging to say to me. Every time I told him goodbye, he would respond, “Be good to yourself. Peace.”
I really wish he had asked for my help. I’m not sure what I could have done to help him, but I am conflicted by my feelings of wishing I could have done more.
A few weeks ago, I received the phone call I had always dreaded receiving since having met him. Jules had died.
Several days later, I received another phone call, telling me that there were some spiral notebooks in his belongings that had my name on them, along with my phone number, and a note to send them to me if anything ever happened to him.
After reading through them, I couldn’t find the words to describe how I felt. This man who, by all accounts and appearances, really had nothing to offer the world and whose life meant nothing, was a talented, inspired and deeply passionate writer. Some people might say, “What a waste,” and there was a time when I might have thought the same thing myself. However, is it really a waste when we meet someone who touches our lives in some small way, that we will remember them even after they’re gone? That means his life wasn’t wasted. And in reading his writing, he had an intuition about people that many never know. In his words:
Monsters do not always hide
under beds or in closets at night.
They do not wait until dusk to come out.
Most of them live in broad daylight,
but hide their scales and claws under layers
and layers of human features.
All people matter. Peace, Jules.
May 26th, 2008 at 9:47 am
I thought you were going to say he left you a million dollars!! That’s sad Trish. The whole story is. But waste? I don’t think anyone’s life is a waste if they are living it they way they choose to. My best friend is gay and when my boys were younger they used to say “X is so hot, what a waste” and I would tell them it wasn’t a waste to Y. Waste is in the eye of the beholder.
I’m sorry to hear about your friend.
May 27th, 2008 at 10:03 am
I remember you writing about him in the past. I was worried this day would come. Or worse, that it wouldn’t, and you’d never know what happened to him.
I didn’t grow up so sheltered - unfortunately Omaha has a fairly large homeless population, and as a kid my church group often went out to serve food, give out coats, etc. I wasn’t scared of them as a kid, but as an adult I’ve seen more than one homeless guy walking through downtown ranting and screaming - mental illness obviously a large part of the problem.
I’m torn - I want my kids to have compassion, to learn to help, to give to those who have less…but I’m honestly afraid of some of them. It’s pretty safe if you go to the shelters to help, but the ones in the shelters already are better off.