Since it IS December 1st, and Christmas seems to be coming at me like a freight train, figured I'd revive this tale from the old TSBB board.
An Evening With The Homeless . . . one Sailor's Tale . . . .
In downtown Miami is a place called Camillus House (barely) funded by the Catholic Church. Our particular suburban parish has volunteers that cook food once a week in the school cafeteria and take it down to feed the homeless. Once a year near Christmas Time, they do a slightly fancier meal and provide gift packs for after the meal, gifts where soap and other hygiene items figure prominently in the gift box. To make the evening even more Festive, our church choir goes down on one of the parish buses and then we sing Christmas carols, while the homeless eat their meals.
I sing in the choir, but I also have sound equipment (about half a ton of it) left over from my Rock 'N Rolly Dayes. (And you thought my SAILBOAT was old!!) ;) So I was the designated Roadie, loaded up the truck, and got downtown and got the portable choir risers and all my gear unloaded and set up, so it would be ready when the choir got there. They began singing. I had gotten pretty hot and sweaty setting up all that gear and didn't want to subject my fellow choristers to someone who now smelled like @$$. :-[ So I walked around, listening to the sound mix and balance and whatnot. I picked an unobtrusive corner up front and enjoyed the music and furtively observed the homeless as they enjoyed their meal. The irony was not lost on me that I had skipped my own supper, to help them eat their supper. :-X
Homeless, The Reality, bears little resemblance to Homeless, The Perception.
These people were not the scruffy types wielding squeegees in the street, that everyone usually thinks of. For one thing, a Significant Number of the homeless were under the age of Eight. Another Stereotype shattered. One mother and her small infant, had clearly dressed carefully for the occasion, wearing her nicest dress from among her bundle. I was struck how people strictly observe Social Niceties, no matter what their situation, or station in life.
Various choir members would sing solos; "O Holy Night" etc. Someone got the Bright Idea to ask me to sing a solo.
"Nahh, you donwanna hear me sing any Christmas Songs." I demurred. :P
The Choir Director (A nun and good friend for over 40 years) encouraged me, smiling brightly, saying: "Go ahead Charles!" :)
"Hey it's an IRISH Christmas Song!" I warned. "Dunno if it would reach this crowd!"
"We wanna hear it!" :) The choir egged me on.
"Well, OK!" :P I replied and started singing:
Now the streets are filled with laughter and lights and the music of the season,
And the Merchant's windows are all bright with the faces of the children
(Everyone is smiling their goofy feel-good grins.)
What a pretty Christmas Song! :)
(I'm poker-faced, since I know what verses are coming.) 8)
And their families hurrying to their homes as the sky darkens and freezes
Will be gathered around their hearths and table, giving thanks for all God's Graces . . . .
And the Birth of the Rebel Jesus!!
(The Nun's smile became a little like rictus and her now-glassy eyes got that familiar Deer-in-the-headlights look.) :o
They call him by the "Prince of Peace" And they call him by "The Saviour"
And they pray to him upon the sea and in every bold endeavor
As they fill his churches with their pride and gold and their faith in him increases
But they've turned the nature that I worshipped in From a temple to a robber's den
In the words of the Rebel Jesus.
(Choir members are beginning to look puzzled. ??? Nun looks stricken.) :-\
We guard our world with locks and guns and we guard our fine possessions
And once a year when Christmas comes, we give to our relations
(One of the Camillus House Priests >:( is coming up the aisle towards me . . . . . )
And perhaps we give a little to the poor if the generosity should seize us
But if any one of us should interfere in the business of why they are poor
They'll get the same as the Rebel Jesus.
(The Nun is now fingering imaginary Rosary beads and looking Heavenward, imploringly. :o
The Priest is hissing quietly at me:
"Jesus Christ, Man!! >:( What!?? Are you TRYING to start a Riot??" >:(
I continued to sing, while thinking: "Wow! I got a PRIEST to take the Lord's Name in vain! How cool is THAT!!??" ) ;D
Now please forgive me if I've seemed, to take the tone of Judgement
For I've no wish to come between this day and your enjoyment
In this life of hardship and un-earthly toil we have need for anything that frees us
So I bid you pleasure and I bid you cheer, from a heathen and a pagan
On the side of the Rebel Jesus.
There was about 6 seconds of stunned silence. (Just long enough, to make me question the wisdom of my decision.) :-X
Then there was hooting, table-pounding, clapping, foot stomping, and whistles (apparently a Hispanic Thing) and people saying things like: "Got THAT Right! I heard DAT!!" "Tell it, Cracker!" "Hear da Mon!! HEAR da Mon!!"
(From a Jamaican, whose dreads were barely stuffed in a Jamaican Dread-Cap.)
It was my turn to be Stunned. ??? They reacted exactly like my Redneck friends usually do. It was the first song all night that spoke about where they lived. Camillus Priest >:( strode off, indignantly. The Nun looked like she wished mightily that she be allowed to throw up. :o The choir clapped and then went right off into a much brighter Christmas song, containing the usual Miami Impossibilities of sleigh bells in the snow and whatnot. ::)
I wandered the crowd, getting a few back pats. One beat-up looking guy, looking down, saw my boat shoes and asked: "You got a boat, or you just like to wear the shoes?" ???
"I've had a sailboat, over 30 years." I replied somewhat defensively.
"Aw! Twice as long as ME, then!" :) He said brightly.
I looked at him more closely. I had initially assumed him to be Caribbean, but looking more closely, he was clearly Anglo, with the kind of Deep-Water Tan that turns the skin that same dark nut brown, that is only achieved by long-time sailors. He was the same rich brown color as his highly beat-up boat shoes.
"I sailed a 50-footer all over the Islands, for about 15 years!" :) He said.
"Cool!" I replied, unsure where this was going.
"The last son joined the Army and the last little girl got married off and me and Eleanor sold the farm and got this here boat in Michigan and got us a skipper to bring her down to Miami and show us how to work the boat and we took off for the Bahamas." "Last year" He went on, "Ellie got an infection and the double-pneumonia at the same time and spent a week in Intensive Care a'fore she passed. She coulda handled the pneumonia, or the infection, but not both."
"Used the last of the savings getting her buried, up by the family. She was scared of having her bones on some desert island somewhere and made me promise if anything ever happened to her, to take her back home. The money was just about gone from the hospital, but that was the onliest thing she ever asked me, so I used it all and took her home and buried her, proper."
"Had to sell the boat, huh?" I asked.
"Naw. The kids chipped in and got me a plane ticket and I flew back to the boat, but it wasn't the same. I could barely handle her before Ellie died, now it was Hard Work. Too Hard. I fished as a mate with the charter boats, for fuel money and ate the fish they let me keep, to keep going. Finally decided to just go back to Miami and sell 'er off and go live with the oldest girl and her husband, until I could figure out what to do."
"What happened?" I asked.
"Ya know that reef before the drop-off west of Eleuthera?" he asked.
(No, but I nodded anyway, like an Idiot.)
"Cut the tide a little too close and when she rolled over the reef, she sheared off a through-hole and sank in 15 minutes. I had too much junk in the way and couldn't get to the sea-cock in time. Fishing boat picked me up. Coast Guard took me back to Miami. Red Cross dumped me off, here."
"Why haven't you called your family?" I asked, gently.
"I'll get around to it directly, I expect." He replied, looking away evasively, for the very first time.
That was when it struck me. That Thousand Yard Stare. This Sailor was Homeless, because he had Given Up. He was just waiting around, killing time, until Fate re-united him with his Eleanor.
I looked him in the eye, memorizing the moment, knowing (we both knew, by now) that I would not be seeing him there, next year.
"There, but for the Grace of God . . . . . " sounds like a cliche, until you realize any of us can get nailed, at any time, for any reason.
Or no reason at all.
I resolved to go home and Give Thanks, for God's Graces.
And the birth of the Rebel Jesus.
Charles Brennan