A Fine Line

A strange experience. 

It was time to eat dinner and a knock on the door was heard.  I went to the door and a young man all smiley said...If you adopt me then you would have black people in your family!  Yes.  I could see that he was right in saying that.  I also remembered a few weeks ago that another young man, perhaps a blood relative?, had said the same thing to me.  This young man also called me Momma. 

He was talking a mile a minute about his cleaning supplies.  I was doing the same in telling him no thanks.  NO thanks.  NO THANKS!  with a little dialogue mixed in of why I was saying NO.  I didn't need anything.  I didn't want anything.  I wasn't going to buy anything.  I didn't want to see any demos.  On and on.  He came at me from every angle.  Finally he left.

We sat down to eat and I got to feeling bad that I hadn't helped him.  Maybe it wasn't the racket I thought it was- even if the adopting line, the blacks and calling me Momma was the same as the other fellows  chatter.  Terry and I talked about the fact he was earnest and determined, even if he wasn't speaking from his heart and was obviously following a script.

How about if I go give him the $6 I have in my purse?  Terry asked Why?  I said I felt sorry for him and all that sort of stuff.  So I left and found him a few houses down just coming out on the street.

I rolled the window down.   

Momma.  What ya doin'? 

I reached out to give him the $6 dollars, told him it was the cash I had on hand and he said, rather huffily, that he didn't take donations or handouts and he worked for his money and on and on. 

I told him I appreciated his effort and wanted to help him.  He said he wouldn't take it, that he had a child and he needed more money than that... and let me know that I obviously needed the $6 more than him, that it was sort of insulting to him and then said....

I'd take it if it was $20.

I said....

Well, that isn't going to happen. 

It's a fine line on this trying to help, even help a little bit, isn't it?