Someone has moved into the empty house next door.
Thing is, that house caught fire last summer. While it's structurally sound––a crew went in and cleaned it out––the house has no electricity, heating, or plumbing.
So, someone is living there, in extreme cold. They've been keeping out of sight, but tracks in the snow lead to the back porch, which faces my apartment across a small yard.
Last night the sound of my neighbor hammering something in the yard woke me up. I got up and checked the time and temp:
3 a.m.
-1ºF / -18 C.
I went back to bed.
This person quite likely has mental problems, I thought. They could be dangerous or, at any rate, desperately needy.
They also could freeze to death.
I got back up, put on clothes, and went down my back steps.
I called across the fence,
"Hello, over there! Do you want to come sleep inside?"
A cheery male voice answered me, "Thanks, we're OK! But... do you have any water to drink?"
I went back upstairs and filled two Mason jars with tepid water, wrapped them in towels, and put them in a cloth bag.
"Are you sure you're OK?" I said as I handed them over.
The young man I saw was dressed for winter camping--a fur trimmed parka, good boots.
"Yeah, we've got heating. We're burning those little cans you use to keep food warm. But thanks for your offer!"
Sterno. God help us.
You know how I felt?
Honestly, I felt relief that he didn't take me up on my offer. And I felt good––morally off the hook, for having offered.
Ha.
I'm not proud of that, but I think it's OK, and I wanted to say it because I rarely hear it said.
More often I hear, "Why Didn't They Help [fill in the blank innocent victims of history]?" as if helping strangers is an obvious thing to do.
But it's not.
Helping friends and family may be hard, but helping strangers, up close and personal, is a different thing--almost ... mmm, unnatural? I mean, sort of beyond our social evolution?
Possibly I missed it, but I don't know of much written about that.
I never saw Schindler's List because I hate Stephen Spielberg's sentimentality. I watched a couple minutes when it was on TV a while ago, and it looked like his usual romanticized version of history. The good guys literally glow. Their suffering (the good guys') is noble.
You watch it, and you feel like you're noble.
Blah, blah, blah.
[Ditto To Kill a Mockingbird.]
I suppose it's good such movies exist, to encourage us to try to help the stranger, but they're hardly realistic.
Helping people you don't know is annoying, and helpers are often annoyed. (I work with some of them.)
I've written before, in contrast, about the wonderful little slip of a novel, Comedy in a Minor Key, by Hans Keilson, who had been a member of the Dutch resistance in WWII.
It's about a nice Christian couple who hide a nice Jewish man in WWII Holland. They all tiptoe around being uncomfortably polite in tight quarters for a couple years.
Nobody glows.
Then the man dies of pneumonia and the couple enters a sort of slapstick comedy:
What to do with the body?
Put it in a closet?
Oh! Googling Comedy, I see there's a 9 minute film out this year. Wow, I should try to watch it. It's being developed into a full-length film, I read.
I went on a date once with a handsome guy who told me over dinner he didn't like Mother Teresa.
Why not, I asked him.
"She's not likable, she's a crank," he said.
I gather that was true.
"You try picking up dying people covered in lice," I said, "and see how likable you are."
So, there was just the one date then?
There was just the one date.
Thing is, that house caught fire last summer. While it's structurally sound––a crew went in and cleaned it out––the house has no electricity, heating, or plumbing.
So, someone is living there, in extreme cold. They've been keeping out of sight, but tracks in the snow lead to the back porch, which faces my apartment across a small yard.
Last night the sound of my neighbor hammering something in the yard woke me up. I got up and checked the time and temp:
3 a.m.
-1ºF / -18 C.
I went back to bed.
This person quite likely has mental problems, I thought. They could be dangerous or, at any rate, desperately needy.
They also could freeze to death.
I got back up, put on clothes, and went down my back steps.
I called across the fence,
"Hello, over there! Do you want to come sleep inside?"
A cheery male voice answered me, "Thanks, we're OK! But... do you have any water to drink?"
I went back upstairs and filled two Mason jars with tepid water, wrapped them in towels, and put them in a cloth bag.
"Are you sure you're OK?" I said as I handed them over.
The young man I saw was dressed for winter camping--a fur trimmed parka, good boots.
"Yeah, we've got heating. We're burning those little cans you use to keep food warm. But thanks for your offer!"
Sterno. God help us.
You know how I felt?
Honestly, I felt relief that he didn't take me up on my offer. And I felt good––morally off the hook, for having offered.
Ha.
I'm not proud of that, but I think it's OK, and I wanted to say it because I rarely hear it said.
More often I hear, "Why Didn't They Help [fill in the blank innocent victims of history]?" as if helping strangers is an obvious thing to do.
But it's not.
Helping friends and family may be hard, but helping strangers, up close and personal, is a different thing--almost ... mmm, unnatural? I mean, sort of beyond our social evolution?
Possibly I missed it, but I don't know of much written about that.
I never saw Schindler's List because I hate Stephen Spielberg's sentimentality. I watched a couple minutes when it was on TV a while ago, and it looked like his usual romanticized version of history. The good guys literally glow. Their suffering (the good guys') is noble.
You watch it, and you feel like you're noble.
Blah, blah, blah.
[Ditto To Kill a Mockingbird.]
I suppose it's good such movies exist, to encourage us to try to help the stranger, but they're hardly realistic.
Helping people you don't know is annoying, and helpers are often annoyed. (I work with some of them.)
I've written before, in contrast, about the wonderful little slip of a novel, Comedy in a Minor Key, by Hans Keilson, who had been a member of the Dutch resistance in WWII.
It's about a nice Christian couple who hide a nice Jewish man in WWII Holland. They all tiptoe around being uncomfortably polite in tight quarters for a couple years.
Nobody glows.
Then the man dies of pneumonia and the couple enters a sort of slapstick comedy:
What to do with the body?
Put it in a closet?
Oh! Googling Comedy, I see there's a 9 minute film out this year. Wow, I should try to watch it. It's being developed into a full-length film, I read.
I went on a date once with a handsome guy who told me over dinner he didn't like Mother Teresa.
Why not, I asked him.
"She's not likable, she's a crank," he said.
I gather that was true.
"You try picking up dying people covered in lice," I said, "and see how likable you are."
So, there was just the one date then?
There was just the one date.
Good to know they are ok...and they know you are there if need be
ReplyDeleteOh Jeez - I know a woman whose Aunt was a nun working with Morher Teresa in India who quit being a nun and became a social worker because she believed MT was
ReplyDeletenot interested in helping people. We're going to have to agree to disagree on that.
GZ: I thought that too--if they need help, they know where I am, which is good.
ReplyDeleteSPARKER: I've heard that too-- MT was problematic,
so I don't disagree with you--
I wasn't clear that my real point was this guy did NOTHING to help people but felt free to criticize--
I was trying to get at how hard it is to help real people in real time (and not, say, write a check--which is a good thing to do! but not likely to punch you in the nose or infect you with lice...).
Great post! I agree it is hard to help people! Especially folks who are a bit unstable. We had a woman who was in our area last summer. She was filthy and had and old fat dog. I engaged. Asked her if she was ok and if her dog needed food. Took her a bag of dog food and a few meals. We live in a small town and others had noticed her and the dog too. Turns out she was a scammer. She would wander around asking for handouts, stand on a corner on the hottest days with that poor dog and her sign. I watched several cars hand her $20 bills within the span of 20 minutes or so..... (watched from inside the grocery store). She walked away one evening and a young couple followed her.... to a brand spank'n new Subarban 😳. Loaded the dog in the air conditioned huge vehicle at which point the young couple confronted her. She started yelling at them and sped away. She was not again in our small town. I was somewhat pissed at myself because Wow had I been taken for a ride! I had talked at length with gal. I had offered up a shower and clean bed to this woman. Lesson learned! I not hand over a sandwich or if I have something edible. I have learned to tread lightly. I still give yarn to homeless guy who sits on the wall of the bank manically knitting. He’s been around this town for years and sleeps under the bridge. The police make sure he is ok in these frigid days and let him sleep at the jail. I applauded you Fresca! Stay warm and glad you have a new stove this winter ☺️❣️
ReplyDeleteSANDY! I always love your comments--thanks for writing.
ReplyDeleteHere's what I think about getting taken for a ride by a scammer.
It can be infuriating and humiliating. . .
but YOU acted like a good human being!
Also: In the case you experienced, think of it from the dog's point of view:
He just saw you as a beautiful helper!
He didn't know his owner was a scammer.
I think if these exchanges were a Test of our humanity,
(a test given by, say, a giant yellow lab in the sky)
when we trust and give help, even if we were wrong, we pass the test.
Doesn't have to be money, as you say!
COULD BE YARN!!! I love that.
A pal at SVDP keeps bags of roasted, shelled peanuts in her car to hand out.
The other day, a weird woman asked every single person on the city bus I was on if they would give her money for lunch.
I was sitting in the back.
There was definitely something .... odd about her,
and no one gave her anything.
I understand why not, but I also thought,
THIS BUSLOAD OF PEOPLE IS NOT PASSING THE TEST!
So when she got to me, I offered her the egg custard flan I had bought at the Mexican bakery.
She looked surprised.
"No thank you," was all she said.
Then she moved on to ask the few remaining people on the bus, who turned her down.
Having said all that, Sandy:
THINK OF THE MONEY YOU COULD MAKE WITH KIRBY!!!
A blind old dog!
You could be rolling in the $20s!!! LOL
What were the squatters hammering? A way into the house? Wood to burn? Have you seen them since?
ReplyDeleteBINK: Sorry I'm sooo late responding--I don't know what they were hammering! They were already inside, so I don't know--wood to burn did occur to me...
ReplyDeleteThere have been workers in the house recently, so I think they squatters have moved on.