A number of years ago when I worked at a school on 86th Street and Park Avenue, a homeless man by the name of Billy frequented the block. He used to stand in front of the bank holding doors for customers. A thin, older, African American gentleman, Billy had grey in his hair and several teeth missing. But he always smiled and offered a genuine open door—paper cup in his hand, just in case.
I’d gotten to know Billy in the afternoons walking from work back to the Lexington Avenue subway station. I never gave him money, but always stopped to chat. We’d share a few moments in easy conversation, connecting in a happy, friendly way. We both maintained an uplifting demeanor though we each had our troubles. I enjoyed my time with him immensely.
Once, after a particularly difficult day at work, Billy saw me coming and asked why I was looking so blue. I told him, it was just one of those days, but he could see that I was down. Then he did something that still brings tears to my eyes when I remember it today. He peered into his cup, shook the change around a bit, looked up with utter sincerity and asked, Can I buy you a Coke?
Billy’s gesture of generosity melted my heart and shifted my world.
I thought of him this week when reading the story of a woman who commuted to work through a busy section of the city, always seeing a certain homeless man with bright eyes on the off-ramp of an expressway. If the light was red, she’d spend a couple of minutes talking with this upbeat soul, giving him change and exchanging human kindness. One day, when she got laid off from her job, she completely fell apart. How would she, as a single mother of four, manage until she could find work? On the drive home, she didn’t want to face anyone. She hoped the light at the ramp turned green on her approach. But it didn’t. Instead, the man had a big smile, strolled over to her car window and said, Today I will give you a dollar.
What is it about true generosity, especially when means are low, that means so much? Does a pattern that usually lingers in the background of our awareness emerge into visibility when we give or receive without agenda?
Last weekend, I walked past a young, homeless woman sitting on the sidewalk holding a sign that read Lost everything but my smile and my hope. I saw the sign before I met her eyes, and when I looked up, she was smiling at me with raised eyebrows that commented, Well, here I am! In receiving the gift of that wry smile, offered in cheerfulness and courage when her life had emptied, I knew the spirit of true generosity.