A Guy Far Away From Home

I've always been particularly sensitive about homelessness and poverty. I'm not sure what it is - perhaps it has to do with growing up in a very working class household. Money was very tight growing up and while fortunately we were never homeless, there were periods in my childhood growing up where we weren't very far from it.

I won't pretend to be the good Samaritan that tries to help even most homeless people I come across. In fact, I'm ashamed to say that I, like most people, often look the other way when faced with someone in need on the street. But from time to time I get the urge to find out a bit more about someone's circumstances, and that happened today.

I met a young man in his 30s sitting outside Davisville subway station earlier this afternoon. I saw him on the way to the gym and decided I would speak with him upon my return if he was still sitting there; fortunately he was. He was seated next to a sign that read, 'Please spare change so that I can get home.' I asked him where home was and he replied, 'Sudbury', a city of 70,000 about 4 hours north of Toronto. I didn't ask how he ended up so far away from home but that's immaterial, anyway.

I was tempted to take him to the Greyhound station to buy him a ticket despite the fact that I'm not in a position to freely spend $200. But I felt deep inside that I couldn't just do nothing. (Years ago I had come across a very similar situation with another young guy at Yorkdale Mall and I still regret to this day not approaching him to at least satiate my own curiosity.) I only had $20 in my wallet so I decided I'd get him some food and give him the change - about $10. I know it's nothing, and that he's only marginally closer to getting to his goal, but at least I feel a little better.

I feel a bit out of sorts about the whole thing. I feel partly guilty, feeling that I helped him out of some sense of self-righteousness, fully aware that what I offered him was insignificant, yet at the same time I feel some satisfaction in knowing I didn't just walk away this time. I'd like to do this sort of thing more often, and hope that many more others do the same.

I'm 31 and I still don't know what I want do when I grow up. But I know that few things effect me on an emotional level like poverty, and little else gives me more satisfaction than in helping someone in this sort of situation. Maybe I'm starting to discover my calling in life.