Karma

I am one of those people who give money to the people who stand in the middle of the road or accost me on the streets of New York or Iowa City or wherever. Once in New York I was going into a deli and a guy was standing there saying, with angry passion, "I'm hungry! Somebody give me something to eat, I'm hungry!" And everybody was ignoring him because it was New York, but I'm Iowa and I am the softest touch there is, and there's just something (to me) about somebody standing right there next to you, saying, flatly, "I need." So I told him I'd buy him a sandwich in the deli. I asked him what he wanted, and he said, still defiant and angry, "Turkey!" So I bought him one and I think I gave him some change, and I told him to take care of himself. And I said it to his eyes, with the same vocal tones I told seventh grade children or how I tell friends who are losing it or how I speak to my husband when he's on the edge. Today I was at a stoplight here in Ames and there was a couple at the intersection of Lincoln Way and North Grand, standing there in the cold with a sign that said something like, "Stranded family, need help. God bless." A man and a woman. They looked tired. They looked a little bit detached, like they didn't want to be there but had to. The man was very stoic, and the woman looked like she wanted to crawl inside his coat and hide. I opened my wallet thinking, "I can give them a five," because I really hate people asking and I have to say no. Sometimes you know you can skip it, but this one was tugging at me. In my wallet were the two twenties I'd just taken out from the bank for the weekend, and nothing more. The light was lingering, and I was within sight of the woman. I grabbed the twenty, rolled down the window, and motioned to the woman. She thanked me, earnestly but wearily, and returned to her post. Now, I know the stories. I know these people are supposed to all or mostly be shysters. I know the guy in New York probably went to buy drugs or went back to his gang or his frat house and laughed. I know the couple at the corner in Ames might live in a nice house or be research students or be funding a meth lab, or he might be a gambler or she might be or WHATEVER. I know all this, and I'm sure this is right. But the thing I can never shake is that the guy in New York might have been a crappy person but really just mostly been hungry, and I fed him. And those people on the corner might be liars, but they told me they were stranded and needed money, and maybe my twenty got them off the street faster and into the bus station. Or whatever. WHATEVER. The thing is, the moral basis I got out of Sunday School was that Jesus told me to help these people. I have no idea who this Jesus is a lot of people seem to think hates everbody or half the people or the people who don't tie their shoes the right way or who screwed up or whatever. My Jesus is the one who sees those people and just sees the people and the need and does what he can. He can do more than me. But I had two twenties and they looked like they really needed the one more than me. And if at the end of the game all my little donations that don't mean that much to me ever mean the world to somebody else, even just once, then all the times when I was just a screwball soft touch were worth it. And since I don't know who the one is to whom the act is going to mean the world to, I'll just overshoot and hit everybody who asks and give them what I can.