August 19, 2004
A Small Idea to Help Feed a Homeless Person
I have long been at odds with myself as to how to lend a hand to the hungry and homeless people that we live among here in New York City. I’ve tried various small ways to help, including donating to charities. While that is worthwhile, I’m always left with the feeling that there are a lot of people that just get missed in the large organized efforts toward hunger relief. In any case, it’s hard to ignore people that are very much our neighbors.
Frankly though, I am reluctant to give a homeless person money, no matter how small, because I don’t know how it will be spent (Perhaps that is a judgment that some grapple with easier than others). So how to reconcile the desire to help with the conscious need to make sure my donations don’t get wasted?
Earlier this year, as the recession dragged on, I noticed more indigent people on the streets and began to think about the problem again. I came up with a small idea that I hope is useful: I bought a pack of gift certificates at McDonalds (sorry all you anti-globalization folks) for $1 each and started to hand them out to the needy that I come across in our neighborhood and around town. I chose McDonalds because of its low cost for a meal and ubiquity (250 in NYC) and thus easy access for anyone in the city.
It’s impossible to really know if these funny little gift certificates are appreciated, but I think that at least it’s a meal.
This was originally posted one year and a day ago, August 18th, 2003. Since I began this project, I’ve given away quite a few of these certificates, sometimes to bemused or disappointed expressions, but mostly to appreciative, hungry people. I’ve learned a few lessons because it does make you think about who you are giving it to and you, or I should say, I, make judgments about the relative need of the person based upon their age, cleanliness or other factors. Interestingly, I suppose, I tend be more disposed toward giving them to persons of color (sorry for the p.c.ness), for what exact reason I’m not sure other than perhaps my perception of their need. My gut instinct says that this is not necessarily right, but it is a reality that I’ve confronted in myself. Overall, I would say that this has and will be a successful endeavor.
Read widely, think well, and write often.
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Recent Comments
Hi Bud,
This is so bittersweet to read. I wish U of Penn more than luck in tackling the collection and making an exhibit for the books. I can’t wait to see the store again. I used to work at Gotham (all too) briefly, from the summer of 2001 to the fall of 2002 when I was 19 and in school for illustration. The building, the books, and especially the people (I had amazing co-workers, plus some really lovely customers) have a special place in my heart. I’m was hoping the link would mention Andreas (Andy) Brown, the last owner of GBM, but no such luck.
I was going to venture a guess that if the old man you met at the store was a GBM employee it might have been Phillip Lyman, but my understanding was Mr. Lyman was notoriously well-read (and had substantial library himself) so I suppose he would not have been reading Dante for the first time when you met him. More likely it was one of our splendid customers. It happened more than once that one customer on the floor would ask me about an author or title and I would meet them with my perfectly hopeless stare ‘n stammer—until another customer that had overheard the plea would effortlessly proffer the desired answer or suggestion. I learned so much working there, from everyone, but was a pretty useless specimen while the learning percolated. One of the more useful employees (our resident poetry expert) recently got a shout-out over at the New Yorker’s book blog after being made famous at the splendiferous Kwik Meal #1 cart:
One more book nerdy bit before I cut off the nostalgia trip. The above-mentioned Marc was the first person to Invisible Cities by Italo Calvino in my hands; I read it up in the 2nd floor gallery on my lunch breaks (lunch from Kwik Meal #1, of course), surrounded by art books and Edward Gorey paraphernalia. That book took (and takes, I’ve re-read it many times) me so many places, but when I’m lucky it takes me back to Gotham’s gallery, by the 2nd floor window where the constant refrain of the gold and diamond sellers coming in through the window mingled with the dulcet tones of NPR from a radio bigger than a microwave and the smell of old paper—all unchanged almost more than a decade later. At least in my mind. It’s still one of my favorite books (and authors), ever. Marc also blessed me with recommendations of Wallace Stevens’ Palm At The End of the Mind, Moby Dick with the Rockwell Kent illustrations, and my first ever NYC apartment: a little studio over in Astoria, Queens. Everyone at that store was overflowing and generous with knowledge, stories and history.
Places like Gotham do more than provide fodder for sentimental blog comment drivel though; I hope the lessons learned from the ongoing troubles are shaping a new generation of booksellers and customers that can find ways to thrive. Bookstores don’t belong in museums. Wise men fish there.
– (JavaScript must be enabled to view this email address)
on “Well That's That”
Best wishes for the holidays, Bud.
I used to work in the Pan Am/Met Life Building in Manhattan. I would walk over to Gotham at lunch and browse, browse, browse. Books were the only thing I ever bought on that stree. It’s a shame it’s gone. Thanks for the update for those of us no longer living in NYC. Atlanta is not so much a book haven.
Best,
Jim H.
– Jim H.
on “Well That's That”
Yeah, for all of our technology - which is great - I mean you and I are talking about this from two ends of the country - but there’s nothing like being there.
– Bud Parr
on “Well That's That”
