Sign Language

I am scanning through my “Home” feed on Facebook and a friend has a picture posted of a man I recognize.  He is sitting alone at a slot machine, his back to the camera.  The homeless paparazzi have caught him in the act at the Swinomish Casino on a cold fall evening.  The caption reads: “Does this man look familiar?” 

I doubt there is anyone in our town of 20,000 who wouldn’t find him familiar.  Who here hasn’t seen him at one time or another waving his cardboard signs on the street corners between Safeway and Wal-Mart? 

Comments follow the photo.  Some are relatively mild, like, “I don’t give those people money”, but others are a little less tame.  As I read, I wonder what he has done to offend so many people.  I also wonder if all homeless people on corners are the same person.  The comments almost have me convinced.  I slowly read down the list:

Comment: “…I don’t give any of those sign holders my money or my damn food…None of my food goes to them f’ers ever and I love my food and hate sharing so that was big for me.”  3 likes

Comment:  “Gambling the money he suckers people into giving him.  Oh but he LOOOOVES ME!!” 1 like

Comment:  “He has a blue jeep I see him driving around all the time” 3 likes

Comment:  “I know about this guy.  Fired from the post office....A pathetic addict that doesn’t want to work for a living anymore…”  5 likes

Comment:  “Panhandling is panhandling…Everybody needs to stop being so bleeding heart and quit promoting it!!  I remember when there were no bums sitting on every street corner…and I miss that. “7 likes

Then, about 10 comments down, there is someone who speaks up for the man in the picture.  I think of him as the “Lorax”. 

Lorax:  “He doesn’t do it for the money.  I’ve actually talked to him.  He does it just to put a smile on people’s faces. ”  0 likes

As I read this I remember driving by the man in the picture.  It had been a really bad day.  As I went by, he made eye contact with me, put a huge smile on his face, and held up a sign that said, “Luv Ya!”  I remember thinking it was hilarious.  I was all in my own head about this or that, and getting more upset by the second, and then I see him and laugh out loud in my car.  It was really transforming.  That day I became curious about the man with the signs on the corner. 

            I read on.  More negative comments follow, but now they’re directed at the Lorax instead of the man in the picture.  The Lorax comments again to defend himself and the man. 

Lorax:  “He will accept money if you give it to him but he’ll also accept a simple smile as well.  Don’t be so quick to judge especially if you don’t know anything about the person.  It’s disappointing to see this.”  0 likes

The Lorax goes back and forth with the bandwagon a few more times, then finally gives up and leaves the conversation. 

The thread ends with: “You can never trust any of them!”  3 likes

I shut down my computer and think that maybe the Lorax and I were friends in another lifetime.  Not that I am as brave as he is.  I can’t say with certainty that I would have put myself out there in the fray, but I do like that he is giving his FB friends something to disagree with, and as a result, think about.  In the dissonance, he is planting a few seeds. 

More than this though, I admire the fact that he actually stopped and talked with Ray.  I drove by for months and had to read this post before I could work up the bravery to actually approach him as he sat one sunny September Saturday on the corner by Safeway.  I introduced myself.  He offered me the curb to sit on.  I sat.  He shook my hand and we exchanged names.  I told him I was journal writing about “judgment”, and asked if he would be willing to talk to me for a bit about that.

“Sure” he says, “tell me your name again.” 

I tell him my name several times throughout this first conversation.  His thoughts seem to be a bit jumbled.  I remember the FB comment about him being an addict, and for a moment think that this could be a complete waste of my time.

I tell him I am examining “judgment”, mostly introspectively, and am planning to write about it.   

He appreciates the topic.  He tells me, “Most people don’t understand.  People have chased me with cameras.  They take pictures of me getting into my car and then say things like, “if you have a car, why do you ask for money?’”

I recall the comment about him having a Jeep. 

I tell him about the Facebook post that led me to him.  That I knew if I wanted to know more about judgment of others, and how it can affect judging oneself, he would be the person to ask.  I explain the post to him.  He just nods and tells me that he can tell things about people while he’s sitting there.  He can tell the people who haven’t had enough love.  "They are harder and colder.  The worst is when they yell things at me just as they are passing me in their cars."  “Drive-by yellings” he calls them.  He can’t see their faces; he can just hear their harsh words coming at him. 

I want to balance this a little for him.  I tell him that on difficult days, I have seen him smiling and waving a homemade sign that says “SMILE” with a big smiley face on it, and it has completely transformed my mood.  There is something to that.  Not everyone can evoke that response in another person. 

He says he's glad I told him that.  He confesses that he thinks he was meant to do this.  He tells me about some of his trials and pitfalls and how they have changed him.  He is talking a little too fast now for me to write everything down.  I have a hard time hearing above the roar of the traffic around us, coming in and out of the grocery store parking lot and whizzing by to Wal-Mart up the hill.  I see his expression and he is lost somewhere in his own thoughts as he speaks.  I am ready to get up and excuse myself when he turns back to me and tells me that it all started, this sign making business, when he lost his job at the Post Office.  He says he was employed there for 20 years.  “They tried to fire me fourteen times,” he says.  I think it would be interesting to know why they were so intent on firing him, but I decide to be careful with my questions and just accept what he is willing to tell me.  I remind myself I am here to understand, not interrogate. 

He was five years short of being eligible for retirement and his pension.   Money is an issue, and he often sleeps in his car.    “Some people are kind, like you,” he says.  “Some people give me money or food, but I don’t expect that.  I appreciate it, but I don’t think that they have to help me.”

I have to leave.  I only have 15 minutes to stop and talk.  I go to Safeway and buy him a bottle of water and some granola bars.   It is hot outside today.  I walk back to him and ask him if he will sell me one of his signs.  They are art I tell him.  I think it is cool that so many people have seen them, and that they are kind of controversial.   I want to put one up in my classroom.   I wonder if any of my colleagues or students will recognize it out of the context of Ray’s hand on the street corner.  My guess is that they would all pass it off as some funny “kid art” on cardboard, and think it is sweet that I’ve posted it in my classroom.  I also think it will be my Good Samaritan way of “helping” him earn some money.  Why not sell them I think.  I would if I were him.   I wait for his response. 

“They aren’t for sale” he tells me.   “I have spent too much time working on them and they are all unique.  I get kind of attached to them after a while.”  I look down at his open satchel and see that he has about 15 signs neatly lined up inside ready to be held up depending on who is driving by.  

I must look a little disappointed by his response, because next he says, “But, I will make you one.  Stop back in a week and I will have a new one for you.  What do you want it to say?” 

 “I am going to put it in my classroom,” I tell him.  I want it to be a message on the wall to the kids.  I am thinking about putting their pictures up around it.  I explain that I like the one that says, “Yur Awesome!!”, but I tell him he will have to spell it correctly since I am teaching homophones and “Yur” will really mess everything up!   He laughs and tells me to come back. 

A few weeks pass and I don’t see him around.  I look for him every time I drive by Safeway or Wal-Mart.  Finally, I see him slouching on the curb by Wal-Mart, shoulders drooping, head hung.  I pull over, park and walk over to him.  “Ray?” I say.  His head rolls up and he looks at me with one eye open, squinting into the sun.  “Is something wrong?  You don’t have your signs out today.”

“I don’t feel well,” he says.  “Please don’t care about me.  If people care about me they are always disappointed.”

I don’t know how to respond to this.  I do care about him, and hate to see him looking like this, but I don’t want the conversation to get weird, so I just say, “Well… I am wondering if you have that sign you said you would make for me.  I am still willing to pay you for it if you’ll accept the money.”

“Oh” he says.  “No.  I don’t have it yet.  I’m sorry.  I have been really sick.  I have a lung infection and have been laying low to get better.  Thought I could come out today, but I got out here and I am not sure I can stay.”  This explains his absence from the street for the past few weeks. 

I tell him I’ll come back when he’s feeling better.  I leave him with $3.00 and tell him that is all the cash I have on me.  He refuses the money at first, but I insist and tell him it isn’t very much but that he should take it in case he needs some cough drops or water.  He is grateful for this little bit.   

I stop back when I see him a week later and he still hasn’t made the sign.  He apologizes, and it finally sinks in that he isn't going to make a sign for me.  I won’t ask him again, and I admit that during the conversation I am a little irritated.  I was going to pay him well for that sign and now he’s choosing not to even try.  The old me would have would have held it against him, and perhaps not liked him very much for not following through.  But I am also learning to see that how I feel about him is really my choice.  Do I judge or not? 

I can view him as a homeless, dirty, car livin’, vagabond, no-good, no-sign-makin’ deadbeat.  Or, I can choose to see him as a street artist who is creating something beautiful in the world, humble as it may be with magic markers and cardboard boxes. 

I can see him as a weak addict without a job, or a strong person who continues to persevere with kindness in the face of others' fear of him.

 I can see him as poor and useless, or I can see him as someone with wealth in the form of art and stories who is willing to share them…not sell them, but share them. 

I can see him as a thief, or I can see him as friend that I want to share with too. 

I could spend the rest of the day judging and wondering what it is about me that caused him not to make the sign for me.  I could make up negative stories to tell myself, or I can just choose to accept that he didn’t do it. 

On this day I choose the later, because the former doesn’t serve me anymore.  If I judge Ray, I end up having to judge myself in relationship to him, and that diminishes both of us. 

On this day I have fewer negative thoughts, and a lot more wishes.  I wish that Ray gets better.  I wish that he gets cleaned up and sober and healthy.  I wish to judge myself less, and for others to judge themselves less too.  It is my wish (and to me that almost always means prayer) that people get kind and creative and share stories and wealth in whatever form they happen to have it.

 While I wish myself back to my car, Ray moves on, slowing shuffling down the street with his satchel full of signs and magic markers over his shoulder.  The sun is setting and I wonder if he is heading back to his Jeep for the evening. 

That was the last time I talked with him.  After that he kind of disappeared from town.  I ended up making my own sign.  Why not follow his lead?  If he’s not willing to give up the goods, he is going to have to put up with some imitation.   Maybe that was the point anyway. 

I ponder this.  What if more of us put out messages into the world that said “SMILE” or “Luv Ya” or “YUR Awesome” to the people around us? 

Thank you Ray.