It's a family affair. And that's not good.

This evening on the Brooklyn bound Q a man got on the train at Canal Street with his three sons. He sang and strummed "Getting Better" with one of his sons on the bongos and another harmonized with him.

He solicited money from us and admonished us to help him feed his children while they sighed and sat upon the floor.

I was paralyzed.
I thought about how I was, in fact, just a couple of missed paychecks away from being in really dire straights. I thought about how my mother kept the three of us in house and home and occasionally kudos while making roughly what I make right now (and am j.u.s.t. pulling through on). I thought about the shame he must feel about needing us and about how angry he was with those of us who did not reach into our pockets.

I did not. I often do not (I am not not proud about this. I am not even resigned to this fact. I'm just not going to pretend that I do when I do not.). Usually it is simply because of the fact that I carry very little cash on me and that I need that cash to get through the day. Sometimes it's because I don't trust where my money is going. Sometimes it's because I'm just frustrated that I have to be presented with this scenario. It's kind of like how I feel slightly frustrated when traffic is held up because of a funeral -because it forces me to stop and contemplate my own mortality (but mostly because it forces me to stop and think and I end up thinking about that family and their loss and the pain that they must feel). And this is a scenario, especially with the housing and mortgage crises in The City, is increasing in its frequency. But this was the first time that I'd ever seen children.

I looked at the men sitting in the seats adjacent to mine. They were completely unfazed. I wasn't. I wanted to be anywhere but there. I wanted that family to be anywhere but there. No, that's not true. I wanted them to be in a home. Safe. With food to eat tonight and certainty about where it would come from tomorrow.
I wonder if that calm in the face of struggle happens in time. I'm not sure though, I've been in this city for years and it hasn't become easier for me yet. There's always a little bit of guilt (even if I give... there's always a feeling that I didn't give enough) and a lot of sorrow. As much as I love what The City has given me, I kind of hope that it never gives the the ability to remain unfazed so that I can recognize the tenuous bounty that I have.