Lost Chances

I have been stewing over event which happened at the office last week and the holiday season. I cannot believe I let an opportunity of its magnitude slip through my fingers. I am usually so much more tuned into opportunities for altruism. As a firm believer of “bread on the water” mechanics of self-perseveration I give when I can and I usually keep a couple of “ones” dollar bills in my back pack to give hobos and panhandlers. I have learned in my life experience if one gives “here” one gets “there”. This I believe and this I know—this belief has never failed me.

If you have followed the blog at all, you will know that I work in the same building which houses the Utah Mexican Consulate. I am not sure what the consulate does but I know they channel through hundreds of folk through consulate each day they are opened. The consulate is not a low-income service agency due to the kind of vehicles which park in front of my window each day. However, because the consulate is governmental agency I am seeing more and more low-income-poor folk show up at out building. Lately, there has been this one old guy, even older then I am, lets call him Don Juan. The last couple of week Don Juan has been hanging right outside of our office door which is right next to the entrance to the building and Don Juan stands there by the doors and I thought was welcoming folk to the consulate, directing them up stairs and into the right office. But with the cold snap that the area has just finished the odor surrounding don Juan has become more and more intense. I mean this guy ,I think is peeing his pants I swear, and every day I don’t think the odor can get worse, the next day the odor IS worse. In fact one day, I swear, as I was going into my office I saw a puddle at don Juan’s feet—it was only later when I was visiting with staff over lunch that Red—our front desk person—indicated the puddle was probably Don Juan’s only way or retaliation against management for keeping the bathroom doors locked. The bathrooms on the second floor, where the consulate is, is rumored to have open bathrooms, but I am sure the consulate has already kicked old Don Juan off the premises.

Anyway the other day, my last day in the office, Christmas Eve, I over heard Don Juan approach some folks in line to go upstairs to the Consulate and asked for what I could make out was “Dinero “. The old guy was shaking down folks going to see the consulate. Don Juan was panhandling. I could have, should have given the old coots a few bucks—but he stuck, he smelled. Still I could have made a difference even if the difference was two bottles of rotgut rather then one. What I should have done was taken him out and found a tub to throw him in and cut some of the urine off of him. Maybe even got him a ten dollar gift card to Micky D’s down the street—then Son would at least have a chance at some protein before he started downing bad booze. But I didn’t I guess I was too self absorbed. I let my best ever Christmas miracle slip through my fingers and I have been repenting all weekend lone and probably will do so for the next year. I need to start thinking about my brother again—when did I turn away?