A Play and Two Encounters with Homeless Men

A Play.  This evening I went into Boston to see a play titled "We Are Proud to Present a Presentation about the Herero of Namibia Formerly Known as South-West Africa, From the German Sudwestafrika Between the Years 1884-1915," or, for short, "We Are Proud to Present a Presentation …"  It depicts a troupe of actors trying to prepare a dramatization about the genocide which reduced the Herero tribe from 80,000 to 15,000 during the period of German colonial rule.Their main problems are that they have little primary material other than letters sent home by German soldiers and that there are differing opinions about how to go about constructing the play. There is a lot of comedy along the way, especially in the earlier parts of the play, but it does give an outline of the events of German rule as a lecture at the beginning (which works surprisingly well as a bit of theater). There were lots of laughs and some serious issues raised.

Two Encounters.  As I was walking down Washington Street from the subway station toward the theater, I noticed a young man sitting on the concrete pedestal of a light pole. As I approached he asked me if I could spare a dollar or some change for a homeless man, and he thanked me for looking at him. As I reached into my pocket, I asked how he came to be homeless, and he said he had lost his job because his employer had lost business in the poor economy. I had pulled some bills from my pocket intending to give him a dollar. As I looked at the money, I thought that it would be easier to take two of the dollar bills and hand them to him than to separate one of them. But I made the effort, and pulled a single bill from the bunch. Why am I so stingy? Nevertheless, not knowing that I had thought of giving him more, he thanked me and said, "God bless you." I hope he will.

When I got to the theater, I discovered that I was mistaken in thinking that the performance started at 7:30. It wasn't until 8:00, and the lobby wasn't even open yet. So I walked around, looking for a Dunkin' Donuts, where I bought a jelly donut and a small black coffee. (For years coffee and a jelly donut was my workday breakfast.) I ate the donut there and then headed out to have my coffee. When I got back to the theater, I hadn't finished it, so I continued down the street, and encountered a maybe 40ish man who asked for money. I stopped, and he remarked that most people pay no attention: on a recent evening nobody in the crowd leaving the theater paid him any attention. I gave him a dollar. He asked my name. I told him, "Joe," and asked his. "Chuck," he said, and extended his hand up toward me; and we shook hands.

By then I had had all I wanted of the coffee. I found a trash receptacle, poured the remaining coffee down a nearby storm drain (for which a passerby complimented me), and put the cup in the trash. As I headed back to the theater, I passed Chuck, and we exchanged brief greetings, which I hoped would encourage anybody who heard it to think of giving him something.