Panhandlers Beg the Question

How Can We Help Homeless in a Substantial Way?

The guy at the off-ramp. The teen at the gas station. The lady in front of the market. Their stories, no doubt, are as different as their cardboard signs — "Anything helps." "God bless." "I'd rather be working." But there's an unnerving sameness about their demeanor: downcast eyes, slack posture, and clothes that haven't seen a spin cycle in weeks. Maybe months.

There are more panhandlers than ever before, and it's no mystery why. The mystery, for me, is how to respond. Sometimes I offer coins and wonder what good my 63 cents could possibly do. Sometimes I ignore them and feel bad about it. Usually I just smile impotently and wonder, as I pass, if there isn't some smarter way to help.

My grandma once took a homeless guy to Denny's and bought him lunch. She drove him there and — gulp — stopped by an ATM on the way. Prudent? No. Constructive? Unequivocally. He got to order the hot meal of his choice and tell his story to a great listener over bottomless cups of coffee. (He had to listen to her stories, too, but fair's fair.)

Not all of us have my grandmother's time. Or her huevos. Isn't there something we can do beyond flicking nickels at these folks, and short of asking them on dates?

I talked to a guy standing outside Trader Joe's on De la Vina Street with a sign: "Thank you for all your help." "It's my preference to technically not ask for anything," said the man, who wouldn't give his name. He's been, er, not-begging for seven months, trying to get out of debt. "Sometimes people give me food that doesn't fit with my diet," he said. "I'm vegetarian, on an all-raw diet."

Only in Santa Barbara.

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