On the route I take to pick up Number One from school every day, periodically (once or twice a month) there is a beggar standing by a stop sign. His sign reads, "I need money for food not drugs." The problem is that everything about his appearance positively SCREAMS "meth-head"--the gaunt frame, the sunken cheeks, the missing teeth. I saw someone pass him a cigarette once, but I have to wonder if he ever gets any cash, ever. The thing is, if what you really want is food, or shelter, or work, there are better and more efficient ways of getting it than begging on a street corner. I suspect that most passing drivers know that, but I suppose that some don't--otherwise why would he keep coming back?
Labels: vagaries of life in the PRP