"I mean it - don't steal it. That's the worst thing you can ever do."
I was coming back from an assignment on the West Side of Chicago. To make a long story short, I took a bit of a long way home, winding up at the intersection of North and Harlem avenues - where Chicago and the suburbs of Oak Park and Elmwood Park converge.
As I crossed Harlem to get to a bus stop, I saw a guy talking between cars, begging for money. He was white, and he looked to be in his late 30s, maybe early 40s. He had a beard, he was walking on a right-side crutch, and he wore the kind of worn-out clothes you'd expect a guy begging for money at a busy intersection wearing.
I usually don't see people begging for money this late at night, but other than that, it was nothing unusual. The guy's gotta do what a guy's gotta do.
I checked the bus tracker info. 13 minutes until the next arrival. So I went... Well, let's not beat around the no-pun-intended-bush - I went to relieve myself in the nearest alley.
When I came back, I saw a girl sitting on the bench. Around high school age, maybe a bit older. I couldn't quite peg her ethnicity - in Russia, people would beg her as someone from the Caucasus Mountains region. She was rubbing her right cheek and jaw.
Again, nothing unusual. Just a girl waiting for a bus to take her home.
But then, the older peddler guy came over to her and asked her to help put a bottle of juice and money away. At first, I thought she was just doing him a favor, but it soon became clear that the two knew each other.
"It still hurts," the girl complained.
"That's something you gotta go to the hospital for," the man said. "It's not something they can check at church, you gotta go to the hospital, or something."
I didn't hear the next exchange, but I heard the guy say.
"Okay, maybe we can get some medicine for it. Go to that Walgreens over there, see how much it costs, and maybe I can get the money."
The girl said something quietly.
"Just go see how much it costs. And don't steal it. You don't steal, you hear?"
"Okay, okay," the girl said.
"I mean it - don't take it. That's the worst thing you can ever do."
The man glanced at the street light.
"Look - I gotta go get some money. You go to that Walgreens, tell me what the medicine costs, and don't take it."
The girl made a face, but she turned and walked toward the Walgreens.
"I mean it - don't take it!" the man shouted as he went into traffic.
At this point, the bus pulled up, so I didn't get to find out what happened next.
But I wondered - what was their story? Father and daughter? A couple? Just two friends?
And, looking back, I wish I would have told them to go to the emergency room at Cook County Hospital, first thing in the morning. I know for a fact that, no matter how poor you are - even if you are homeless - they will take you, and they probably wouldn't have to pay a cent.
As my people say, the good ideas always come too late.
As I crossed Harlem to get to a bus stop, I saw a guy talking between cars, begging for money. He was white, and he looked to be in his late 30s, maybe early 40s. He had a beard, he was walking on a right-side crutch, and he wore the kind of worn-out clothes you'd expect a guy begging for money at a busy intersection wearing.
I usually don't see people begging for money this late at night, but other than that, it was nothing unusual. The guy's gotta do what a guy's gotta do.
I checked the bus tracker info. 13 minutes until the next arrival. So I went... Well, let's not beat around the no-pun-intended-bush - I went to relieve myself in the nearest alley.
When I came back, I saw a girl sitting on the bench. Around high school age, maybe a bit older. I couldn't quite peg her ethnicity - in Russia, people would beg her as someone from the Caucasus Mountains region. She was rubbing her right cheek and jaw.
Again, nothing unusual. Just a girl waiting for a bus to take her home.
But then, the older peddler guy came over to her and asked her to help put a bottle of juice and money away. At first, I thought she was just doing him a favor, but it soon became clear that the two knew each other.
"It still hurts," the girl complained.
"That's something you gotta go to the hospital for," the man said. "It's not something they can check at church, you gotta go to the hospital, or something."
I didn't hear the next exchange, but I heard the guy say.
"Okay, maybe we can get some medicine for it. Go to that Walgreens over there, see how much it costs, and maybe I can get the money."
The girl said something quietly.
"Just go see how much it costs. And don't steal it. You don't steal, you hear?"
"Okay, okay," the girl said.
"I mean it - don't take it. That's the worst thing you can ever do."
The man glanced at the street light.
"Look - I gotta go get some money. You go to that Walgreens, tell me what the medicine costs, and don't take it."
The girl made a face, but she turned and walked toward the Walgreens.
"I mean it - don't take it!" the man shouted as he went into traffic.
At this point, the bus pulled up, so I didn't get to find out what happened next.
But I wondered - what was their story? Father and daughter? A couple? Just two friends?
And, looking back, I wish I would have told them to go to the emergency room at Cook County Hospital, first thing in the morning. I know for a fact that, no matter how poor you are - even if you are homeless - they will take you, and they probably wouldn't have to pay a cent.
As my people say, the good ideas always come too late.