I lost a good friend in Gloria Himes a few weeks ago. We were pen pals...modern day pen pals using Facebook Messenger to visit each day. She was a sounding board for me, someone I could write to about my day.
I wrote to her about a homeless woman at Starbucks. Here is the message I sent her.
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Feb. 23, 9:23 am
Greetings from Pad 39A on a Thursday morning. I'm all set up for a full day of work in the studio. I came by bus, the best way to travel when the weather is nice. I walked a couple of blocks south to the Starbuck's to get my coffee before walking on further south a couple of blocks to Pad 39A. I need my coffee!
The homeless people in San Francisco are everywhere. They are so prevalent in some areas you hardly see them, they fade into the background like part of the fabric of the inner city. Mostly they stick to themselves and don't beg, so it's easy to just pass them by without notice. This morning, however, I saw a person who just broke my heart.
She was probably five feet tall and slumped over a bit. She was standing in line at Starbuck's with an empty plastic cup and I could tell she was just going to ask for some water. It was impossible for her to have any money. She was wearing the strangest clothes. I first noticed her shoes did not match. On one foot she wore a yellow battered Crock sandal. Her bare heel was exposed out the back and it was black as tar. On the other foot she wore a black tennis shoe that was two sizes too big, and it was laced tight. Her pants were a cruddy, soiled, striped black and white pajama bottom. The material was not very heavy. She had a muddy green windbreaker wrapped tightly enough around her. She was obviously cold. On her hands she wore plastic surgical gloves, like the ones I use to paint with in my studio. Hers were dirty brown from use and I'm sure she was trying to keep her hands warm. Her hair was filthy, cluttered with various kinds of debris as if she had been sleeping in a pile of leaves. A thin scarf was just barely hanging on around the back of her head. She would tug st the scarf to hide her hair, and she would sheepishly bow her head as if to hide herself from those in line around her.
I looked at her face. It was filthy. She had three pieces of tape or worn out band aids covering portions of her features. She had one piece of tape on her nose, a small corner was hanging down and looked as if it might come off at any time. She apparently had some sores or perhaps skin cancers she had covered with whatever she could find to stick to her skin.
So here was this creature standing in line at Starbuck's. I was watching her intently and was thinking all kinds of things. She wasn't that old, and thought "how does a young woman find herself in this situation?" I was also thanking about how lucky I have been in my life to have escaped such a state. I've been poor and in need, but never near the shape this young woman was in. I was thanking how blessed I was to have a place to sleep, and a studio full of paintings, and food, and money to buy a cup of coffee.
When she approached the counter she asked the girl at the cash register for some water. An Asian man was paying for his coffee and had his wallet out. She looked at him and he immediately handed her a dollar. I reached into my pocket and moved past the man in front of me and shoved a $5 bill in her hand. She looked up at me, smiled, grabbed her cup of water and moved on.
Every once in a long while I'll run into someone like this who touches me, for whatever reason. Sometimes it's the blessings in my life that serve to highlight a person like this who is so broken and helpless. The homeless and helpless are everywhere, and for the most part I leave them alone. But now and then I see someone who grabs my attention and I just can't turn away. She did more for me this morning than I will ever be able to do for her. She reminded me how lucky I am.
