Scenes From An Urban Street: Redemption For $1

1) The sky is that odd mix of sun and rain, where you think you should be able to see a rainbow somewhere, but it must be blocked by the towering blocks of concrete and glass. The sidewalks are damp, the tiles of Powell Street seeming to float. The line for the cable cars is empty this evening.

2) A bundle of human desolation sits on the sidewalk, asks, "Does anyone have any change?" He says it into the teeth of a flood of conversation, cell phones, car engines, and it is lost.

You cannot expect to move the homeless and the panhandlers away from the tourist areas. When you live upon the charity/pity/guilt of others, you go where there are people. Basic survival law: if you need to acquire resources, you go where the resources are.

They are loafing along the sidewalks, long rail-thin pieces of humanity. I don't often give, because I don't want to. The signs that say "Why lie? It's for beer" are no longer funny, nor are they original. It is a low-percentage game for them, sifting through the crowds of people who are tired and want to go home, trying to latch onto those who have the emotional energy to make contact and give them money. But it is the only game they seem to have going.

Unless, of course, they are lying, and the money they get they put into a mutual fund. That would be disappointing.

You think I'm joking, and I probably am, but not entirely. I have heard reports of wealthy Marin County teens who drive into the city to play at panhandling on Haight Street.

I'll buy Street Sheet now and then. When I can, and when I want to. I'm more apt to give to musicians.

3) Speaking of, there is a cellist at the 24th Street Bart Station, exploiting the musical properties of tunnels. His music crests and drops like a wave at low tide, mellow and slow, a pleasant transition on the escalator up into the Mission Street twilight. I give him money, because it feels pleasant to listen to his music.

I wonder if the panhandlers get annoyed when there are musicians around. Maybe the panhandlers should unionize to protect their territory.

I give the cellist a dollar, which makes me feel all better for not having given a dollar to the people selling Street Sheet at Powell Street.