Staying in an AirBnb in San Diego for about a week on business. Had my local Starbucks scoped out. Every day I went, she was sitting there, on the patio outside, with her bags and stuff on a chair. No matter what time it was, she was there, which means she was always there.
One morning, one of the baristas came out and brought her a coffee and something to eat, and spoke to her gently saying, ‘here’s your coffee Beverly, I hope you have a great day.’
Beverly didn’t answer. The barista put the coffee down and Beverly sat there staring off into space. After a few minutes she took a drink. A few minutes later she took a bite of whatever it was they brought her.
It lifted my heart that they were kind to her. A couple days later I saw a couple of cops on bikes force a homeless man to get up and relocate. He was lying on the sidewalk in front of a fancy hotel. God forbid we actually see them.
A young man, probably in his 20s, came out to sit on the Starbucks patio, where Beverly was, and where I was. It’s a small patio so he takes a chair not far from Beverly. A few minutes later she starts having some kind of sneezing or coughing fit; it might have been epilepsy or some sort of convulsion. There was an involuntary, spasmodic sound and jerking of the body. The young man got up abruptly and moved to a different seat, nearer to me, saying, ‘I don’t want to have to hit nobody grandma.’ Meaning, I guess, that he wanted to hit her but was checking himself. After a few more minutes he got up and left.
His comment was bad enough for such a crude lack of compassion. But to make matters worse, a few minutes later another barista came out to talk to Beverly: ‘Beverly, we’ve had a complaint from a customer that you were spitting on them. Now that’s not ok Beverly. We don’t tolerate that kind of behavior here. Ok? Thank you.’ The guy that wanted to hit her had gone inside and told them that Beverly was out here spitting on people. The barista was as nice as he could have been given the circumstances; he didn’t know that she didn’t spit on anyone.
But it was her reaction to the accusation that really got to me. She didn’t say anything, no response, no objection. She just took it defenselessly, absorbed the hit. After the barista delivered the blow to her dignity he went back inside and I watched her. She looked up, down, around, as if looking for someone to validate her side of the story. I wish I would have spoken up for her in the moment, when she needed an ally. Why didn’t I?
A moment later she shuddered, like another convulsion, a whole body spasm. Then she picked up her food and took another bite. This was nothing new. It still hurts to be seen this way, but it’s her way of life and it’s useless to try to argue or fight against it. At least it still hurts.
Polyphonic 