I think I saw an old neighbor homeless on the street. I was on my way to the doctor. Got off the Gold Line, walked up the avenue, it was stupid hot, stopped in the gas station to grab a bottle of powerade, and there sleeping on a cot on the side of the road under a tree was Paul. At least, it looked like Paul. Paul was Section 8 back when I lived in North Hollywood. His dad flew fighters in Korea, which means he wasn't as old as he looked. He lived with his wife downstairs and kitty-corner from me, across the hall from the meth addict. I helped them hook up their ATSC/NTSC converter so they could keep getting broadcast television on their fading, dimming projection TV. Paul would regale me with tales of his father's daring-do because I worked in the "industry", you see. I'd write it, he'd help me out, we'd split the profits. It was a great tale that needed to be told. His eyes would brighten up and he'd shake photocopies at me, but I was never allowed to take them. Most of the time he smelled of cheap beer. I would run into them occasionally at the Mexican Wasteland Target (so named because nobody white shopped there, and it was so poorly stocked that I actually had to assemble a thermos one time from random parts scattered about in a bin) but then I determined it was worth driving the extra three miles to go to the one erected on the site of the former Lockheed Skunk Works. There's another tale there, but oh well. Paul's wife hit the emergency room a couple times while I lived there. She had trouble walking after. I suspected it was diabetes taking her down but you don't ask these sorts of things. You just express sympathy and hope for the best. I saw her infrequently. Paul mostly started running the errands. To the best of my knowledge they had a car but eventually it stopped moving. Paul gave me a rug doctor once. No idea why. He liked me. I moved out. I gave him the rug doctor back because where we were moving we had hardwood. A light went out of Paul's eyes. I took his number, he took mine. I wasn't going to call him but I figured he'd call me. He didn't. Even though I gave him a drill. Because these are our rituals. Move across town, never see each other again. I don't know that it was Paul, there under a tree in 104 degree weather, taking a nap against the world on a Tuesday afternoon. I'd get a better chance on my way back. I worried about it my entire appointment - do I say hello? Do I wake him up? Do I strike up a conversation? What do I owe Paul, as a former neighbor? What do I owe Paul as a fellow human being? What can I really do to help Paul? How far am I willing to go to help him? I realized about 20 feet past him, sleeping there under the tree, that every homeless person I've never looked at was Paul to somebody. When I was done with my doctor's appointment the cot was still there, but the man was not. I don't know that it was Paul. I don't know that it wasn't Paul. I know that if I got booted out of my shitty North Hollywood apartment when my wife died, and my car didn't work, and I was largely unemployable, that Pasadena maybe isn't a bad place to be. And I don't know that Paul didn't have anybody in his social safety net, but I know he had no kids. And I remember watching the light go out of his eyes when I moved away forever. It's been on my mind ever since. Every person on the street is somebody's Paul. And I need to do more. I'm not sure how yet. I know for damn sure it doesn't involve calling my mother, so you got that on me at least.
rd95: kleinbl00: I think we become mentally paralysed because, you just can't help everyone or everything you care about. In India I was somehow proud of how I'd managed not to let all the poverty, misery and suffering affect me, albeit a big mental struggle. On the day we left, I had a small bag of left over fruit and food we'd bought and saw a small girl come up to the car as we were on the way to the airport, so I opened the window and handed her the bag. She immediately rushed to the curbside and five or six other kids appeared from nowhere to her side, and she shared it all with them. The fact they were all obviously starving and she still shared her bounty with the rest of them somehow broke the floodgates and left me in silent tears. I spoke to a friend who's spent a lot of time travelling through India with a small disaster relief organisation and asked him how he coped and how you decide who to help and who not to help. He said it's impossible, so I asked him what can you do? He replied "You just help this one and that's all you can do" by which he meant since you can't help everyone, just focus on helping where you can and let that be enough. It doesn't solve the problem of choice, but it helped break that paralysis of what to do in the face of overwhelming need. After a while I got used to seeing them and while they saddened me, I became numb to the sights. I feel really shitty typing that out, but it's the truth. If I let every sad thing I see on the road side get to me, I'd go crazy. I think anyone would.
It's been on my mind ever since. Every person on the street is somebody's Paul. And I need to do more. I'm not sure how yet.
I spent a year leading a group of a young people in a program of community service. Sometimes the work was easy and everyone got helped, and on those projects, morale was high. Other times, we found ourselves hopelessly discouraged. Everything we did was like a drop in the ocean. So there's a story we learned and told ourselves. It's incredibly trite, but we often found ourselves thinking "starfish, starfish" just to keep going. She had been doing this for some time when a man approached her and said, “Little girl, why are you doing this? Look at this beach! It's littered with starfish for miles in every direction. You can’t save them all. You can’t begin to make a difference!” The girl seemed crushed, suddenly deflated. But after a few moments, she bent down, picked up another starfish, and hurled it as far as she could into the ocean. Then she looked up at the man and replied, “I made a difference to that one.” The old man looked at the girl and thought about what she had done and said. Inspired, he joined the little girl in throwing starfish back into the sea. Soon others joined, and all the starfish were saved.A young girl was walking along a beach upon which thousands of starfish had been washed up during a terrible storm. When she came to each starfish, she would pick it up, and throw it back into the ocean. People watched her.
While I have nothing profound to add to this thread, nor do I think any psychoanalysis is even appropriate. But, I'll write that this anecdote's theme was the very first thing I had thought about whilst finishing reading up. And I saw it come together as such: It's not completely in the same dimension, but I think it's worth mentioning I've read similar words here on Hubski already: Every person on the street is somebody's Paul. And I need to do more. I'm not sure how yet.
It's easy for us to become numb to the struggles of the world. In the small moments though, it's important to act, because everything that is big and important is made up of those small moments.
You just help this one and that's all you can do" by which he meant since you can't help everyone, just focus on helping where you can and let that be enough. It doesn't solve the problem of choice, but it helped break that paralysis of what to do in the face of overwhelming need.
Small changes and careful actions can be enough to start making a difference without driving yourself crazy.
That is when I realized that if i had started to change myself, I could change my family, who could change my community, who could change my city, who could change my country, who could change the world. --- I've quoted that here a few times before. I truly do believe that small change can lead to big change, and indeed that small change is the only way to create lasting big changes. I think that all of these quotations are evoking that idea - small change leading to big change.First I tried to change the world. When I realized I couldn't do that, I tried to change my country. When I realized that that too, was impossible, I tried to change my city. When I realized the futility of that, I tried to change my family. This was of no use, so I tried to change myself.
Thanks for posting it again for fresh eyes like myself. In a semi-haunting juxtaposition, for some weird ass reason my brain made the connection of Martin Niemöller's "First they came...". I guess the similarity lies in an individual's power/voice in the face of great opposition or inertia. I can see especially lately why you'd have quoted such before granted quite a few posts and/or comments I've read around hubski with regard to our varying levels of awareness in relation to direct to take either in our lives or moral dilemmas. The more recent example being rthomas6's post, and the highly relevant reply from _thoracic....I've quoted that here a few times before.
To kind of bounce off of and add to bhrgunatha, things like homelessness and poverty are pretty big and hard to handle as a society, let alone for individuals. Giving to charitable organizations and outreach programs is one of the best ways to help. They often have the resources and the know how to make a single dollar stretch to seem like it's five dollars. They have people who are knowledgeable about the issues they're trying tackle and have the experience to help others best figure out how to help themselves. Just as important, organizations are much better equipped to help both their employees as well as the people who need help deal with the emotional burden of what ever it is they're trying to tackle. They're not all perfect and some are more effective than others, but they're a huge help. I think one of the best things you can do is to know some of these places. If you see someone you know who needs help, or someone you don't know who needs help, you can point them in the direction of people who are there for them. I think you as an individual would do exceptionally well at something like that. You're confident enough to not let issues scare you. You're charismatic and great with words. You seem to know how to network really well and you have a good eye for figuring what's legit and what's not worthwhile. I half bet with a little research, you could find all sorts of people in LA and Seattle that do a world of good. Most importantly, and I'm sure you know this, being a good dad will help more than you ever think. If you and your wife are able to pass on your values and your strengths to your daughter, she's gonna grow up to be awesome. That's what this world needs. Awesome people.