My Moral Coil

This evening, on my way to the Kerry meet-up, I saw another homeless person standing on the bridge, begging for money.  His sign was very sad and asked for "a little help."  I was raised to help people. 

Since moving to Portland, I have seen more beggars than I had ever seen in my life before.  What's funny about Portland, though, is most of these people don't really need to beg.  They just do it because they can.

Still, it always sits with me.  I always wonder if this person might actually be telling the truth.  I want to roll down the window and hand him my spare change.  Instead, I avert my eyes as I drive past him.  Guiltily, I pretend he doesn't exist.

Later at the meet-up, I gave my last three dollars in cash to the League of Conservation Voters to help pay for food for their student interns.  I felt a little better about giving money to someone who would actually use it for food, but as I drove home, I thought about the guy with the sign.  I wondered if I had passed judgment where it wasn't my place because I gave when I knew where the money would go.

I judged that six students who chose to work for the summer for a group that had to elicit money to feed them were more worthy of my money than a guy who chose to stand on the road begging for money.  That doesn't sit with me well.  I know I can't give to everyone, but that doesn't make me feel any better about it.