Have you ever wondered what your local "crazy" street person is on about?
What is that guy muttering? Why is he cussing so much? Is he talkin to me? (I know he ain't talkin to me because if he is...)
The street crazy is a fixture in SF, especially downtown. It's easy to tune out the blue noise coming from his mouth and tune in your iPod/crackberry/phone conversation, ignoring the cries for help in the form of rantings against the world.
Where this person's discontent emanates from, who knows? But today I wanted to know. As such a fellow crossed my path mumbling every curse word known to man I watched as the surrounding populace avoided him like he was Pig Flu incarnate--you know the group mentality of "If we all block it out then it didn't really happen (see: If a tree falls in the woods...).
I've been in this situation in public many times over (I used to ride Muni in SF, know dat) so i know the score. Protocol is to ignore but I wanted to break rank and talk to this man. My attempts would ultimately be futile I reckoned so I eschewed my crusade. Yet, this left me wondering has anyone ever tried to talk to this man? He could have schizophrenia for all we know.
This synopsis leads me to this: Why don't we help our mentally ill?
Unfortunately there's an abundance of maladjusted, sick people stomping through the SF streets (and streets of most cities for that matter) and no one to care for them. I realize it's a sisyphean task, but why are they treated as second class citizens?
Within a block of this questioning I saw the blind man that works in the same vicinity as me. He's recognizable by his cyclist's hat and his walking stick. I've helped him cross the street before and although he's completely able I always feel compelled to help him. Yet, I kept my head down and walked right past.
I still have cold feet about helping the Blind cross the street ever since I once was growled at by a blind Czech lady who I semi-accosted. She was crossing at the same time as me and I asked "Pomoc?", which means "Help" in Czech, and touched her arm to which she immediately replied with a guttural growl similar to that of a wolf protecting its habitat. I reeled away from her and have had cold feet in similar situations ever since. My approach was less than adequate but the sentiment counts for something right? (sho nuff)
So who's to help those in need? Is it you or I? Them or they? No one seems to be the usual answer. It's a noble deed and a tough task to say the least. When is a person a lost cause? Things to ponder...
I should probably go see "The Soloist" now.
Cox out.
