I don't have a bag

Typically if I’m heading home from work on I-4, I get off at exit 33. Occasionally, like last Friday evening, I’ll do some shopping after work, so I get off a mile early at exit 32, which drops me off on Route 98 in the midst of North Lakeland’s shopping district. On that evening, I needed to make some photocopies (give me points for not doing it at work) at Staples and get a new black inkjet cartridge for my printer.

While you’re waiting at the traffic light at the end of the off-ramp for exit 32, it’s not unusual to see a homeless man standing with a sign asking for money, or food, or a job. I’ve never been generous in these circumstances, although I’ve seen other people give food or a dollar or two. I’m just not very trusting and am leery of what happens to the money after you give it to them. And most of the time I don’t have food with me.

However on this night, it was a woman with a sign, and I pulled up right next to her. She looked Hispanic perhaps, and the sign simply said she was homeless and “god bless.” For some reason, something came over me. I knew I had a bag of pretzels, a fruit and grain bar, and a serving of applesauce in my lunchbag. Heck, I even had a plastic spoon for the applesauce. Feeling generous without knowing why, I rolled down my window and held out the food. “Here,” I called, and passed over what would have at least been some kind of supper for her, and she said, “Do you have a bag? I don’t have a bag!” in a surprising southern drawl that unbelievably had an edge of sarcasm to it. I quickly looked around my car, a little exasperated, and said, “No, I don’t, I’m sorry.” She again repeated, “I don’t have a bag” and almost looked as though was going to give me back the food, but then she sort of sighed, clutched it to her chest and walked back to the side of the road.

As luck would have it (her luck or mine, I don’t know), there was a sheriff’s car right behind me that I hadn’t seen when I was in my generous mood. The homeless woman went over and talked to the female deputy, and after a minute, I saw her cross the off-ramp lanes and move on.

At first I felt ticked off. For the first time ever I gave to a homeless person in a situation like that, and she didn’t seem to want my offer of food because I didn’t provide a bag to put it in. Well screw it! Never again!

But later, I thought about how I’d feel in a situation like that: I have nothing. If I collected anything or people gave me things, I’d have nothing to put them in. I’d lose precious food or money, or drop them, I wouldn’t be able to transport them easily, I’d need both hands . . . And then I remembered seeing a homeless man at the same spot a week before that, accepting food from the man in the car in front of me, and how he brought the food back to a small pile behind a light pole. The pile included a couple of bottles of water. And I realized how hot it must be standing out there, so hot. Water would be a welcome thing, even if it wasn’t ice cold.

I’m seriously considering keeping a small cooler in my car this summer with a few bottles of water in it to pass out to these folks in case the situation happens again. And maybe stocking a few plastic grocery bags in it as well. I don’t want someone to think twice about accepting food or drink because they’ve got nothing to put it in.