Have's and the Have-Not's

A friend of mine has been trying to figure out ways to assist her pre-teen children as they have started to express a certain degree of hopelessness over the last several months. Her eldest child has shared that he feels as though he isn't old enough to make a difference in the world, he has no money that is his to give, and nothing seems to matter anyway. After attempting to find some places the kids could volunteer to show them that helping others doesn't always have to be about money, she came up with an idea through a local youth worker to make TAG (take and give) bags to give to those in need, specifically, the homeless population that is ever-present in our community and surrounding areas (and truly, all over the world).

*Image here

The bags are small and consist of food and/or personal items such as crackers, tuna in a can, fruit cups, granola bars, bars of soap, toothpaste, toothbrush, and so on. Not every bag has the same items, but it's a way to give someone a meal and something they need without handing over cash (which many of us rarely have on hand these days anyway). The idea is to take one of the bags and keep it in your car so that it can be given to someone who is asking for money at intersections, off-ramps, and so on.

Immediately, I thought carrying one of these in my bike bag would be the best idea. I pass a number of homeless individuals regularly while riding, and often they are cycling themselves. What a great opportunity to be able to share. Of course, since putting the TAG bag into my saddlebag, I have yet to run into a single person in need of this sort of assistance. I have, however, run into folks when I'm on my road bike and have almost no ability to carry anything with me. It's as though the universe is conspiring to keep me from meeting up with the person who could use the assistance of a small meal.

All of this has had me thinking about my own youth and personal feelings of helplessness - both then and the present time. I keep recalling a very specific incident from my childhood. As a kid, I always wanted to help others, so if I had any sort of opportunity or could convince my family to help someone, I felt I was doing what I could in my own way. When I was about 8 years old, my family was at a gas station filling up when we noticed what appeared to be a homeless man sitting at the edge of the lot. My mom looked at me, handed me $5, and said, "Go on. Go and give this to that man over there." I remember smiling and feeling as though it was going to make his day.

I was a shy kid though, so the idea of talking to a stranger was sometimes more than I could handle. Slowly, I walked up to him. His head was hanging low, scraggly, dark brown hair in his face. I must've cleared my throat or made some sort of noise because he suddenly looked up to stare at me. His eyes were glazed over and even at my relatively young age, I knew he was probably intoxicated. I started to say something, but the words just weren't coming out of my mouth. It seemed like an eternity that he was watching me, but I finally had enough voice to smile and say, "Here. Hopefully, this will help you," as I handed over the five dollar bill. His response to me was, "Hey, thanks kid. Now I can go get some weed."

I returned to our family car, completely crushed. It's almost as though I can pinpoint that moment as the day I lost some of my faith in humanity. This individual... some man who I didn't know, had broken my spirit, a part of my willingness to give. He took away a small piece of my innocence that no child should lose. It's not as though I became completely hardened and never helped anyone again, but I honestly cannot recall ever giving cash to someone on the streets again after that day. My mother asked me what he said when I returned to the car, and I didn't even know how to respond. As we were driving away, I recall trying to process what had just taken place, and eventually, I was able to share what the man had said with my family.

There have been numerous occasions since that day when I've had the opportunity to help someone. If I am completely honest, I never really lost that desire to help when someone is in need; really, it just got buried behind my invisible wall of protection. I think I simply adapted and found other ways to assist like volunteering at a food bank, or offering to buy a meal for someone on the street. Somehow, it seemed safer and I wouldn't have to deal with the reality that a person may not use the cash for something that I viewed as necessary.

In many ways, I think it's easy to separate our world into the "have's" and the "have-not's," when in reality, it isn't that simple. There are many of us located on a long spectrum of possibilities between having everything and having nothing. In fact, most of us fall in between the two extremes. Perhaps we've even landed at different points on the spectrum throughout our lives, and then there's the reality that there is still time to find ourselves at either extreme. Personally, I know what it is to not have a home and to wonder from where I would find the next meal. It isn't necessarily a fun place to be, but I also remember that time of my life as one of my biggest personal growth periods. There are moments when I realize how easy it could have been to remain exactly where I was, but because of a little help from others - sometimes the smallest gesture - I was able to find a way out.

When I think about that moment as a child, that little speck of time that crushed a little bit of helping spirit within me, I try to balance it with the thought of those who helped me when I needed it later in life. I do my best to realize that some people want assistance, and others simply don't. Some are looking for a handout, others are looking for a hand up, as the saying goes.

I have decided that when I give out the TAG bag that's riding around in my saddlebag with me on my adventures around town, I'm also going to give out a bit of cash with it. Why? Because I am reclaiming that little bit of self that was lost so long ago. It no longer matters if the person uses it to buy weed, cigarettes, or alcohol, or if they choose to use it for his/her next meal or an article of clothing. I'm not saying I'll be handing out cash to everyone I see asking for it in the future, but I think it's time to reclaim my whole, true self... and perhaps this will help begin to restore me to... well, me.

The Kindness of Others: An MTB Tale

I started this post with the intention of detailing out a race that Sam competed in over the weekend, but I think it has more relevance at the present time to speak to the power and importance of the kindness of others. I know there will be time to provide details of the race later, so instead - here we go.

This past Saturday, Sam raced in the Alpine Odyssey 100k in Crested Butte, Colorado. He was competing in this ride to hopefully qualify for the Leadville 100 in the summer of 2013. His decision to ride was made just about 6 weeks prior to the ride, and I worried (probably more than I should have) about how he would fare during an intense ride that he had little preparation to complete. I was even more concerned because I knew that I would be unable to be there to offer moral support. Due to obligations made last summer, one of us needed to be here this weekend, and despite my best efforts to find a replacement so that I could be with Sam, it just wasn't in the cards.

As luck would have it, Chris of From the Pavement's Edge contacted me a few days prior to the race and asked if we'd like to meet up. Our families live fairly close to each other (not close by Bostonian standards, but close by non-city-people standards), but have never met in person, and I thought it was wonderful that he wanted to try to connect. I shared that I would be unable to make it to Crested Butte, but I knew Sam would love to have the opportunity to have someone to share "war stories" with before or after the race.

City of Crested Butte - looks like a lovely place!
*Photo by Sam

Throughout the day of the Alpine Odyssey, I checked the finishers page, trying my best to keep tabs on Sam and his progress. I knew he wasn't carrying his cell phone (he believed he wouldn't have coverage so it was needless weight), and I had no way to keep in touch until he arrived at the end of the ride. The only update that was available through the day was on the website at the split point. At that time, Chris was about 20ish minutes ahead of Sam. I was happy that they were relatively close together and figured that meant all was going well. As the day wore on though, I found myself concerned that perhaps Sam wouldn't be able to finish in the 8 hour cut off time. Eventually, I saw that Chris had finished. "Yay!" I thought. "That's awesome, and hopefully Sam is close behind." About 30 minutes (or so) later, Chris sent a note stating that the last time he'd seen Sam he was looking good, and that he was waiting at the finish line for him. I felt so relieved that someone was there to greet Sam when he arrived at the end. This was a pretty amazing ride to complete, and the fact that I knew there'd be no one there to congratulate him made me entirely sad, and only added to my feelings of guilt with not being present at the race.

Approximately 10-15 minutes later, I received another message from Chris stating that Sam had made it to the finish and he was in one piece. I was so relieved and happy to know that Sam had made it, and I was entirely grateful that Chris was kind enough to keep me up to date on the happenings. Certainly, it wasn't necessary for him to do so, but it provided a great deal of peace for me knowing that he was okay and had survived the ride.

Sam riding with with others at the Alpine Odyssey (Sam's on the lower left side of the photo)
*Photo credit to Mandy

After a quick phone call from Sam, he headed off to the awards ceremony where they would give entries to those who had won a spot in Leadville. Sam knew he hadn't finished quick enough to qualify, but there was still a possibility with the lottery system for those who finish in the sub-8 hour time frame, but hadn't qualified by finishing early in the pack. When Sam called in after the awards ceremony, he stated that Chris had won a lottery slot. "That's awesome!!" I proclaimed, and then he said, "I didn't get a spot." While we knew that it was a probability that Sam wouldn't qualify based on finishing time, I know how disappointing it must've been to go through the hard work and not make it. My heart dropped.

Sam continued on to say that Mandy (Chris' wife) who was assisting during the ride, spoke to a coordinator and was able to put in a good word for him.  I was truly touched (and I know Sam was as well). These people... people we don't really know other than getting glimpses into each others' lives via blogs, Twitter, etc... they're so willing to provide information to me so many miles away, and try to help Sam with the process of obtaining a spot in Leadville. The whole day was filled with selfless acts in many forms. While there is no way really to repay Chris and Mandy, or the others who offered encouragement throughout the day, I think this was such a great opportunity to practice paying it forward. I think it also just goes to show that there are good people in the world who do indeed perform selfless acts.

Although it is still quite possible that Sam won't make it into Leadville, I think we were both in awe of these individuals who were so giving, kind, and generous, and while it may appear on the surface that this has little to do with the typical posts here, I think it's an excellent lesson that there are always ways we can help others (big or small, seemingly insignificant or major life-changing necessities), and it was a perfect reminder to live with the spirit of giving - especially in regard to those we don't necessarily know as well. Both Sam and I do our best to be kind to others, and offer help when it appears to be needed, but I know there are also times when it feels as though there are so many more people who are unwilling to offer assistance. The reality is, however, that there is always an opportunity for kindness... even, and perhaps especially, in those unreciprocated moments.