Three encounters

I want to write a little about some interactions that I have had - mostly before social distancing started - and things that they have meant to me.

The first one started on the bus. I was waiting at Beaverton Transit Center and this woman got on.

She stumbled a little and she was muttering to herself. As she sat down in front of me there was a terrible smell of beer. It was easy to make certain assumptions.

I was not planning on having any interaction, but as she was talking to herself she mentioned losing five pairs of gloves. As it happens, I had an extra pair of gloves in my purse (preparedness girl, still), and I asked her if she would like them. She would, and that's how we started talking.

She had just been shopping, and had bought a five-pack of gloves. The bag with that and some food had been misplaced.

When you keep all of your possessions with you because you don't have anywhere else to put them, it would be hard to keep track of things; that's logical. I expressed sympathy, but then she explained that she sleeps on buses, and when they get to the last stop and hustle everyone off, that's when she loses things.

That made a lot of sense. $5.00 lets you on the transit system all day, and it is relatively warm. In some ways you might do better on the trains, but on the bus everyone has to get by the driver, and it is a smaller space. If people are looking for someone to harass, you are safer on a bus.

That is assuming that the harassment does not come from the transit staff. I have been noticing them getting a lot more authoritarian lately, and this was still before they changed the layout at Beaverton. You can no longer wait on the bus. Instead, everyone has to wait at the same spot until the bus is leaving. It is less convenient for people with homes, but I suspect it was aimed at the homeless.

I gave her a few dollars too, and she thanked me. She had given the last of her money and the rest of her breakfast to another person that day, but she was telling me that she believes that it comes back to you.

Right about then, someone got on with a pizza box. He sat near us and offered her some. As she was about to take it, the driver barked "NO EATING ON THE BUS!"

It is true that this is a rule, but it was like they had both been slapped. He pulled the box back and closed the lid, and her hand went back. Then he recovered and offered the box again, saying "You can take some but don't eat it on here."

She did, and thanked him, and then she looked back at me and said very pointedly, "It comes back to you!"

She then asked me if I knew where there was a laundromat, because she couldn't stand the smell of that blanket anymore. Maybe now that she had a few dollars and some food, then laundry was a possibility. I directed her to one that wasn't too far.

That was pretty much the end of it, except that I also suddenly realized how easy it would be in that situation to have someone else spill on your blanket, or throw up on it, or something where it isn't even your fault that it smells. You still can't just throw out the blanket, because it is still winter and who knows what you will lose next, or when you will be able to replace it.

It struck me hard then, but I have felt it more as I see that most places have shut down bottle returns, which is an important source of cash for many people. Also, a lot of places aren't taking cash anymore, or ordering food has to happen online and with the assumption of a car picking it up. Going through trash sounds terrible, but if you rely on it, it will have been a lot less productive for the past month.

Sure, there are shelters, but those have their own problems, in addition to being a great place to share diseases. Vancouver opened up a mall parking lot for people living in their cars, but if you don't have a car, that doesn't help. (Honestly, a lot of the people living in their cars still have jobs, a pretty big indictment of capitalism in itself, if you think about it.)

So I worry about people on the streets, along with a host of other worries, and primarily in the camp of worries that I can't really do anything about. It's just there.

But on another level, that story affects me because that woman was a kindred spirit, still believing in giving no matter how low her means were, and I love her for that.

When she told me "It comes back to you!", I felt that in my soul. It felt like a promise that things will work out, and an affirmation that what you do matters.

Next time I will write about one way in which that has been fulfilled.