Life Lessons
Tickets to Charlotte’s Webb: $11.00
Mini Combos for everyone: $15.00
Dinner at McDonalds: $12.00
The Ladies’ decision to give their dinner to the homeless man at the bus stop: Priceless*
*Well, not exactly. In reality it cost me another $10.00 to buy him a sandwich and a coffee from the Tim Hortons down the street, but it was worth it give my daughters in a real life lesson in generosity and in being part of the solution, not the problem.
We are very lucky, The Ladies and I. According to any sort of financial definition, at best we qualify as “working poor;” we have more than we used to now that I’m working again, but like most single parent families, we don’t have a lot of money. Thanks to a phenomenal support system, we do have enough, however. More than enough, really. Our family is incredibly generous, showering The Ladies with cool toys and cute clothes for Christmas, birthdays, and sometimes “just because.” Handmedowns from friends, and even classmates, mean that their wardrobe is quite possibly nicer, and definitely more expensive, than mine. So, I never really worry that The Ladies will have to go without toys or nice clothes while I struggle to make the rent or put reasonably nutritious food on the table (and the occasional pizza).
Diva Girl doesn’t really get it, the financial realities of our lives. Which is great; I really don’t want her to be burdened with the type of responsibility that comes with knowing where the money comes from and where it goes. I mean, I’d like her to appreciate what she has, of course, but I don’t want her childhood to be tainted by my adult responsibilities. What I do want is for her to grow up knowing that she has a responsibility to her community. To confront the problems she sees and seek solutions rather than simply accept that this is the way things are.
We all had a lesson in that tonight as I try to rush us past a panhandler on our way to the movies. Clutching our fast food bags, pressed for time and half frozen, I barely noticed the man, simply shaking my head “no” as we hurried past his doorway. Sabrina saw him though, and wanted to know what he was doing, sitting out there in the cold. She was shocked to find out that that was his home, that he didn’t have a nice apartment, a warm bed, and good, warm food to eat; in her childish innocence, she thought that everyone had that. I was shocked when, after digesting this information, Diva Girl demanded that we return to the man, so that she could give him her Happy Meal.
We didn’t give him her chicken nuggets. Or Regan’s either, although she offered. We did buy him a dinner of his own, however. Because, even though it was a pain in the ass to go back, and it nearly made us miss our show, Diva Girl was right: We had a responsibility to do something. To see this man and acknowledge his value. To commit a small act of kindness that shows him that he matters, that we care. And I had a responsibility to my daughters. To live the way I want the world to be. To show them that convenience should never trump conscience and that what we can do, we should do. Which, I’ll admit, is not how I always live my life. But I’m going to do better now. I owe to The Ladies, and to every person who has ever helped me to keep me from struggling to provide a good life for them.