Losing the “right” to judge

When must I release the right (perceived) to question another’s motives?

Last week I was down on North Mississippi Avenue at Amnesia brewing. I was finishing up the last few items from my Tuesday list.  I don’t like to stay out through dinner time, but that day I just needed a couple extra hours to complete my day’s goals.

It was getting late when I finally unplugged my laptop and headed out to the bike rack.  I was unlocking my bike when I saw him walking toward me.

He was older than me.  How much older?  It is hard to say, his appearance clearly weathered by hard years.  His clothes were disheveled and looked like he had had not changed in several days.  Even though he weaved slightly as he walked, I knew intuitively that he was headed at me.  I fiddled more quickly with the lock.

“Hey,” he said.  “Can I borrow a dollar?”

“A dollar, huh?” I replied, barely making eye contact.

“Ya-aa, I want to get some pizza.”

“Pizza, huh?”  At this point the bike wanted to leave.  I started to lift it out of the stall.

“So?”  he asked, eyebrows raised, working to hold focus, his mouth  frozen in a perfect “O”.  He wasn’t going to let me just pedal off.

“Where are you going to get pizza for a dollar around here?”  I don’t even know why I asked that.  I was probably gathering evidence.

Then I looked at him, really looked, maybe for the first time.

His skin was dark and hard.  I wanted to label him “homeless”.  My friend Vivian had taught me not to jump to invalidating labels.  She uses the term, “a neighbor who may live without permanent housing.”  It seemed like a mouthful, but I knew that the mental shift was important.

I wanted to make the mental shift.  My programming fought with me.  “What was he going to do with my dollar?”  I thought.  “What was he really going to do with it?  What was he going to buy?  What was he already on?”  I wanted to stop this recording from playing in my head, but it was grafted there long ago.

“Hey!  Come-on, buddy.”

I snapped back to the moment.

Then he said it.  “I haven’t eaten in two days.”

The negotiations were over.  “I haven’t eaten in two days.”  Those words ended it.  Nothing else mattered.  They kept burrowing into my soul.  I no longer had the right to judge.

“Is pizza what you are really hungry for or would you prefer something else?”  I asked him.  My face had changed to an apologetic smile.   “Where should we go for dinner?”

2 Responses to “Losing the “right” to judge”

  1. WordPress › Error

    There has been a critical error on this website.

    Learn more about troubleshooting WordPress.