Let's get it right this time

I should have given the man the $10. I had it in my pocket. It’s not like my family would’ve starved without it. But he asked me in the middle of a grocery store. On Christmas Eve. And it caught me off guard. I was looking for egg nog, and the next thing I knew, someone in need was asking for help. And I balked.

I could say he didn’t look homeless, that he seemed to be in good heath, that he was wearing clothes not much different than what I was wearing, and more than likely that he was probably looking for cash to support some kind of habit — and that’s why I didn’t give him any money. But I didn’t really know his story. Maybe he was sleeping in his car and living on grocery store samples. But really, who cares what he would spend the money on? ’Twas the season to help. And I Scrooged it all up.

I need to do better in 2026. Maybe smile more. Maybe be more helpful. Maybe take in another stray cat. I mean, the man in the grocery store was somebody’s son. He could have been my son. And if my son was living in his car in some grocery store parking lot and needed money — to buy lunchmeat or vape juice (it doesn’t matter) — I hope there would be somebody there to see his need and help him along his way.

“But,” I hear you say, “he was probably a flimflam man looking for a sucker, and you fit the bill perfectly.” 

Yes. You’re right. I offered to buy him whatever he needed, but he wasn’t interested. He wanted the cash. And when it didn’t look forthcoming, he mumbled something and walked away. Later, I saw him in the produce section, hitting up someone else for the $10. But that didn’t matter. I should’ve gifted him the money. He was somebody’s son. He could’ve been mine.

If my children or grandchildren become desperate one day for assistance, and I’m not in a position to help them because I’m long dead and buried, will you see them as bums on the street trying to swindle “good, honest-working folk out of a few bucks. Shoot, I betcha they live in a mansion and drive a Corvette. So no. I’m not giving them a stinking dime.” Or will you help them out of the kindness of your heart, because they’re no different than you are? Tell me. I’ve got to know before I leave them at your mercy.

My horror is that we, as inhabitants of one of the most prosperous countries in the world, have become so unforgiving of “the others,” the ones who don’t look like us, the ones who “don’t belong,” the ones who don’t believe exactly what we believe in — so unforgiving and intolerant that we’ve forgotten that we’re all just living on a little rock that’s zooming through a practically infinite universe, and all we’ve got is each other to lean on.

“Mankind was my business,” the ghost of Jacob Marley said to Ebenezer Scrooge in Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol. “The common welfare was my business; charity, mercy, forbearance and benevolence were all my business. The dealings of my trade were but a drop of water in the comprehensive ocean of my business.”

Look. Right after midnight, all over the world, we all get a fresh start at a new year — a chance to get it right this time; a chance to see ourselves in those who are different; a chance to lend a helping hand. It may be the only chance we have left. Let’s try not to blow it.