Tag Archives: Homeless

Less is More Advice

Being an accomplished white middle aged man in my sixties, it’s my burden to give advice to others especially when they don’t ask for it. They’re the ones who need my advice the most.

I was walking to work after stopping at Breadcraft for my tasty morning pastry and large iced coffee. Ordinarily I don’t see color. Like, seriously, this was the first time I ever saw a brown man on Church Street. He was walking towards me hugging a cardboard box to his chest, as if it held all his worldly possessions. His clothes were wrinkled and dirty and his hair was tussled, but not in a fashionable way like mine.

I always treat people with the respect they deserve so I told him, “Hey, you there, these possessions are weighing you down. You need to jettison them. Be fleet of foot and light of heart. Don’t chain yourself to meaningless things. They just slow you down. Oh, yeah, and get a job, okay?”

When I got to my office of many windows, where I can look down on the street people, I wondered. Do I follow my own advice? Am I weighed down by useless possessions? Of course not, I laughed. I don’t need that mountain house. I haven’t been there in 18 months. I’m perfectly happy with just my high-rise condo and my beach house. I could jettison that mountain home tomorrow. As for my Mercedes, I could get rid of that, no problem. I’d just drive my Range Rover or Lexus. And three girlfriends? I don’t need three. Becca’s a pain in the ass. I could jettison her tomorrow. In fact, let’s get started on that right now.

Knowgood Carp, Owner of all the Hotels on Block Island and Some in Connecticut.

Grease-Dipped Benjamins

Being an important, wealthy, and virile businessman, I frequently find myself in Washington, DC. I bring my banker, Titmouse Beak, and my lawyer, Treacherous Gulp, because I need to accomplish a lot in a short period of time. I also bring suitcases full of grease-dipped Benjamins. You can’t open doors on Capitol Hill without those. I’m joking, of course. No one uses cash anymore; all those transactions are done electronically, but you get my point.

Tuesday morning we were walking by Union Station towards the Capitol. You could smell fried legislative sausage everywhere. Treacherous, Tit, and I are prosperous middle-aged men, so we love watching people fight. We’ll pay fat stacks to see professionals brutalize each other and then bet larger sums on who will limp away and who will go to the hospital. It’s wildly entertaining, and as luck would have it an amateur fight broke out in front of us.

Two men of indeterminate age started screaming at each other. One man was short and worn out. All his worldly possessions were on a blanket next to him. It was a small pile. Another man, tall and emaciated with all his possessions on his back, appeared to have stepped on the blanket. It was difficult to assess if this was an intentional provocation or accidental. Both men were jittery and having trouble standing upright. Nonetheless, the fight was on, and we started placing our bets.

The tall skinny guy should have had an advantage, but he couldn’t throw a punch. He tried slapping the short guy but lost his balance and tumbled to the ground. The short guy went to kick him, but he too lost his balance and collapsed on his tiny pile of possessions. These fighters had no physical stamina, and neither tried to get back up. Needless to say, the fight was disappointing and hilarious, but it reminded me of how, in Washington, DC, you get what you pay for.

Knowgood Carp, Owner of all the Hotels on Block Island and Some in Connecticut

Enlightenment and Joy

Anyone who has read this blog will say it’s mostly pointless. Long ago I proposed changing its name to Masturbating Chimpanzees, because truth matters. A careful reader will note I said mostly pointless, and I did so intentionally because my posts are the only ones worth reading. So congratulations on reading this post. I bring enlightenment and joy.

As you know I’ve been on a campaign to alleviate homelessness in Roanoke. When I walk down Church Avenue, I encounter homeless people. I patiently inform them that they wouldn’t need to live on the street if they would just get jobs. Sometimes I give them a dollar as a jump start to a better life. So far this year, I’ve given away $8.43.

Last February, right before that vicious polar vortex, I encountered one homeless man in particular. I’d seen him before but I’d never had the chance to give him my pep talk. He was messier than most with a raucous grey beard, blank eyes, and ancient clothing. I told him to pull himself up by his bootstraps and gave him a dollar.

I never saw him again. In fact, it’s been nine months since I thought of him, but last night was frigid and he appeared, uninvited, in my mind. That’s when I realized my pep talk and dollar must have saved him. I drove around Roanoke this morning, and he’s nowhere to be found. All because I gave him a second of my time and a scrap of my wisdom. It’s easy to make a difference in the world. All you have to do is care.

Knowgood Carp, Owner of all the Hotels on Block Island and some in Connecticut

Dry Cleaned

It's a coffee-spilling day
despite my desperate need
for every drop that drips
on my formerly pristine 
dry-cleaned white shirt.

The sun hasn't risen yet.
The bundled-up homeless are still asleep
under the bridge as I drive by.

It's a middle-management day -
where dire budgets are discussed
behind softly closed doors
and layoffs loom.

Luvgood Carp, Editor-in-Chief

Maybe We Should Defund the Police

People’s stupidity delights me. It reaffirms my superiority. Just today I was walking down Church Avenue, and there was a pile of clothes blocking the covered entrance to an abandoned building. The clothes evidently belonged to a homeless person. During the day the homeless leave their clothes in front of the vacant buildings where they sleep at night. It’s the equivalent of licking something and saying it’s yours.

It also evinces a cavalier spirit that shakes hands with irresponsibility. Don’t they know anyone could steal their shabby clothes? And this person left a winter coat right on top of the pile. He’s going to need that soon.

Now I believe everyone deserves to be treated with love. Tough love, primarily. So I was thinking – this person would learn a valuable lesson about responsibility if I took that coat. Not for myself. I was going to give it to Goodwill so it could help the needy.

Just as I was reaching for that coat, a police officer came around the corner. She asked me what I was doing. Fortunately, I am a very quick thinker. It’s one of my superpowers. Another is empathy. I told her I was just checking to see if the coat had a pocket, because I was going to leave some money in it. Unfortunately, she waited for me to actually do that. Worse – she stayed there until I walked away. So now this homeless guy probably thinks it’s smart to leave clothes lying around. How will he ever learn anything about responsibility?

Knowgood Carp, Owner of all the Hotels on Block Island and Some in Connecticut

A Tender Heart Prone to Foolishness

If you have been reading my posts (and why wouldn’t you – you seem intelligent), you know I regularly give money to homeless people in downtown Roanoke. This year alone I have handed out a total of $7.00. However, I do much more than give pathetic misfits a dollar. I counsel them, so they can improve their lives. After all, money can’t buy happiness. It can only buy shelter, warmth, food, and medicine.

Today on Church Street, I encountered a filthy homeless man and decided to help. His steel-colored beard was long and wild. His pants and shirt were unfashionable and mismatched. He seemed unable to focus on what I was saying. Regardless, I forged ahead. I told him businesses all over town were hiring. He didn’t need to live like a greasy feral cat. Just as I was getting to the part about picking yourself up by your bootstraps, he turned and got on a rusty bicycle with flat, no-tread tires and rode away as fast as that decrepit thing could carry him.

I smiled at myself in relief. My tender heart is blind and prone to foolishness. I almost gave that charlatan a dollar. As you know, I only give money to homeless people. It’s my motto. Now call me old-fashioned, but I also prefer the homeless to be bikeless. There is just something intrinsically wrong about giving money to someone who has the ways and means of owning a bicycle.

Knowgood Carp, Owner of All the Hotels on Block Island (and Some in Connecticut)

An Indecent Proposal (Part 2)

Having recently given $5.00 to a homeless man near my office, I was shocked to see him today sitting in the same spot. How much money does a homeless person need? He’s homeless.

As I got closer I realized this was a different man. He just wore the same filthy clothes as the other guy. No one was around so I ignored him.

I got my iced coffee and headed back to the office. The homeless man was still there, but this time an attractive woman was walking towards me. I was prepared. I stopped in front of the homeless man and held out $2.00 (I had change this time). When he looked up, I saw a nasty gash on the bridge of his nose. It was still bleeding. Why was he getting into fights? He looked frail as a sparrow. He shouldn’t be starting fights.

He blinked in surprise but said, “thank you, brother.” I laughed because I don’t have a brother. “I’m Michael,” he rasped. “What’s your name?” I told him, “Joe.”

I was stunned. I couldn’t believe he had a name. I was so distracted the young woman walked by before I could waylay her and let her know how much I enjoy helping the wretched. The whole thing was a disaster.

Knowgood Carp, Owner of All the Hotels on Block Island and Some in Connecticut.

An Indecent Proposal

Every afternoon I get my iced coffee from Little Green Hive in Roanoke http://littlegreenhive.com. They have the best iced coffee in town. Usually I pass the same homeless man on my route, and sometimes he asks for money. He implies he may be hungry. I always say no, so he’ll learn to be self-sufficient.

Today, however, something was gnawing at my brain. An indecent proposal. What if I did give him money? What would happen? I had no idea.

On my way back, I passed him again. This time I handed him a $5.00 bill, because I didn’t have anything smaller. He looked up at me and said “Hey, bud, thanks a lot.” His voice was raspy as if the winter had been rough on him, but he sounded sincere. He also seemed to smile. I couldn’t see his mouth under his unkempt beard, but that powderpuff of gray hair did seem to shift upwards. His wrinkled blue eyes were twinkling as he took the money from my hand. His fingers were surprisingly warm.

I got back to my office, and I couldn’t get his smiling eyes out of my head. Still can’t. They were almost human. Of course, I washed my hands thoroughly.

Knowgood Carp, Owner of all the hotels on Block Island (and some in Connecticut).

Chinos

Now this is progress.
The trash trucks are new
crisp and clean.
I can see my silver reflection
deep inside the battleship gray panel
protecting the womb where the waste is crushed.

This speaks well of my city -
removing the rust belt that trapped it
inside grungy jeans covered with coal dust.
The city can now put on a nice pair of chinos
and reasonably hope the beige stays clean.

The trucks glide to a tuneful stop
and the refuse managers emerge from the cranium
in crisp clean battleship gray uniforms.
They tenderly lift the comatose
larva-like addicts and homeless
and gently place them in the womb.

Luvgood Carp, Editor-in-Chief

  First Published in BOMBFIRE