Laughing Matter

It was Chris Rock who made the observation that, "If a homeless person, has a funny sign, he hasn't been homeless that long." I mention this because my wife has had an interesting urge over the past couple of weeks: She wants to hand a joke book to a person camped at one of the stop signs leading to the on ramp of the highway that takes us across town. I have been trying to comprehend this impulse. I know that it comes from a charitable place, because of all the people in our family, she is the easiest touch when it comes to being panhandled. She buys the Street Sheets. Walking down the sidewalk, my wife is the one who will stop and listen to the stories that go along with the requests for spare change. I'm the tough guy, with the thousand yard stare. I gave at the office.
My wife is the one who once had this experience: While making her way home from lunch one day, she was accosted by a scruffy gent who asked for a dollar. "Asked" may be a little polite for the actual interaction, but this didn't keep her from being sympathetic. She realized that she had no money to give this man, but she did have a cookie, which she offered up freely.
"What kind is it?"
It was at this point in the interaction that we have historically noted that this person could not actually be a beggar. If that were true, he would not care what kind of cookie it was, he would have simply taken it with gratitude. Beggars cannot be choosers.
Unfortunately, this also means that the last choice that anyone might ever make would that to become a beggar. That may be why my wife felt the need to pass along the joke book. It's a sad and lonely avocation, begging. "Will work for food." "Hungry. Anything will help." Beyond the humility, there is a good deal of politeness associated with this exchange. Lots of "please" and "thank you." When you hang around with my wife, you get to see a good deal of the smiles available on the street. It was her idea to give one of these denizens of the overpasses a joke book to help spice up those otherwise dreary messages. When I grumbled something from the passenger seat, she went ahead and gave the guy her leftover scrambled egg and toast. No joke book. Maybe next week.