Today, I met Kenny

*Names have been changed to protect those I care about*

I saw Kenny through the window. He was asking for money for bus fare or food. Probably whatever he thought would resonate more with the passerby. I was sitting in the restaurant so I offered to buy him a burger. I was happy to accept it. The manager less so. “We don’t like to ‘feed the birds.’” he said. “It keeps them coming back. There are plenty of other outlets for that stuff.” I apologized to him, and said I would consider that in the future.

The thing is, I live downtown. I see these guys every day. I see the same ones with the same stories. Even after I had bought Kenny food he was asking for money for food. They want to change but most of them don’t want to have to do anything to change. After I had ordered him food, Kenny went to wait outside and I came back to my computer. I had essays to proofread for the underprivileged kids I worked with. I couldn’t sit there. I went outside to talk to Kenny. We talked about his shelter, how both his parents were deceased. How he had a sister Rhonda, and a brother Maurice. How Rhonda was trying to fix her own life and how she’d tell him that people work hard for their money and don’t want to just be handing it out. Kenny told me his parents were deceased, he told me he grew up in the projects. He told me he wants to be happy and stable. He’s 49 and he wants to be financially stable. Just like everyone else. I asked him if he liked the shelter. Of course he said no, but for a reason I didn’t expect. “I don’t fit in there.” “You gotta fit in there, most guys don’t wanna spend the night cause they gotta fit in there.” In a place designed to give these men a second chance, Kenny didn’t feel like he fit, which to me immediately translated to, he didn’t feel loved. Something was off here.

The other thing that was off, Kenny had to take a bus to the shelter. He had walked downtown this morning but his feet hurt and he wanted bus fare. Why wasn’t there a shelter downtown? In Syracuse, the Mission is right around the corner from Armory square, and the Ox isn’t far from there. We were failing these men. We weren’t giving them easy access to the help they needed. And we were kicking them out and arresting them when they asked for money. We didn’t need to give them money, we didn’t know them. “You don’t need to know me.” Kenny said.

The thing is, I didn’t buy Kenny lunch just because I felt bad or wanted to say I did something nice for someone. I felt somewhere within me that I was supposed to buy him lunch. Tuppens a bag. It was the same when I came back to my computer and realized I was supposed to talk to Kenny. He was kind. He sat on the trashcan and I stood two feet away. He tried to hug me goodbye but I shook his hand. He asked where I stay at, I told him I was sorry but I wasn’t going to tell him that. I probably should have just said Syracuse. I’m sure Kenny is relatively harmless. But he has lived on the street for years. He’s learned the right lies to tell. And his mixed up brain that repeats the same sentences over and over, has not been challenged in years.

“I’m an addict. I’m not going to lie to you. I’m an honest person. I know you a warm hearted person cause you bought me lunch.” But the Downtown Alliance crew that has to kick him from his spot are assholes. Kenny doesn’t have a job, he starts in to blame the government and the democrats and republicans, and opinions, (which are also like assholes, everyone has one), he starts to blame society. “Kenny,” I say “You’re talking about society. I asked about you.” “Oh me, well I’ve been incarcerated for a few years, it’s hard to get a job when you’ve been incarcerated.” Kenny is full of excuses. But I wouldn’t want to spend a day in is red and rainbow slip-on shoes. “It’s hard out here, it is, but I’m a God-fearing man.”

We talked about a lot of other things. Sports teams, and how everyone is more “friendly” on St. Patrick’s Day. He told me his mother had class, and his grandmother had class. His parents were deceased. He was an orphan. He went to church every Sunday. Every Sunday. Every Sunday. Even I don’t go to church every Sunday. I gave him his food and I shook his hand and as I turned to go back inside he asked me for something. He asked me to keep him in my prayers. With that, every lie he’d told or excuse he made seemed to drift away. It didn’t matter. Of course I would pray for him.

As I wrote this, I started to think about Tamara. I started to think how easy it would be for her to end up in Kenny’s position. How she had been homeless as a child, chased away, even by family. I started to think how going to college was the only thing that could save her. And how much her father and stepmother wanted that for her. Wanted the best for her. Truly loved her. And I thought, all I can do is buy Kenny lunch. I can give Tamara a different life. Tamara is the mentee I work with at Minds Matter. She wants to go to college and become a behavioral analyst for the FBI.

Her parents are trying to go back to school and make ends meet for her and her two brothers on an income that is a quarter of what I make. I think how hard a time I have. That I probably should save more; that I buy things I don’t need. That I live too comfortably. I read her mother’s paragraph on why they are applying for need-based aid from Ithaca. Shania is not her real mother. But you wouldn’t know that from reading this. She loves that girl and wants her to succeed. She wants a better life for her. So do I. I don’t want her to end up like Kenny. And I want more for him too. I want him to find a place he is happy. I want him to be honest and stable.

It’s hard to forget guys like Kenny. I still remember Ace and the Urban Cowboy and Jesus and Rodney. I remember walking into the Ox and thinking. This. Is where. They live. I remember driving through the projects with my dad as he showed me the houses Syracuse Model Homes was working to develop and being so proud of him. I remember feeling like a week wasn’t enough. That I should be doing more. And now that I live downtown I feel it even more. I don’t know what that is. But it starts with buying Kenny a burger and fries and talking to him, and praying for him. Because even if society sees him as the least of these, I don’t.