On Tuesday and Friday, I teach computer skills as volunteer work about three miles from where I work.
I have three rules for the students. One that we take bad weather days off; not if it's spitting rain, or snowflakes, but if there's story weather, we reconvene the following week. Neither of us wants to be sitting wet in an air conditioned building, wishing we had stayed home instead.
The second is that things in their personal life ALWAYS take priority over the lesson. If they're ill, or a plumber is coming over, or their friend from school is in town, or they have to babysit for their daughter's kid, that's more important.
The third is that I don't want them writing things down during the lesson. I want them to listen, ask questions, and try to understand, without having to try to memorize the notes they wrote on a scrap of paper, that they can't understand, because they weren't paying attention when they wrote it I don't expect them to remember all of it. The next time I ask them how about what we learned last time last time, and I reteach them the things they didn't remember.
Part of the reason I don't teach on bad weather days is because I walk home. I'd be much heavier, if I didn't. I have no other reason to be in that neighbourhood usually, and I often shop on the way home.
This Tuesday, the student didn't show up; he called to say that, after I had already left. That happens frequently, but never bothers me, because it follows one of my rules. If they call me at home far enough in advance to let me know they aren't coming in, I stay home, unless I needed to be in that area for something else.
It was dry when I left to teach, but drizzling a little bit when I left, so when I had done my shopping in the area, I took the Queen car home.
The double section long street car was quite full, and the driver let me pay my fare, and enter through the doors at the back. Right near the doors, there was a woman with a dog on a leash, sitting , with her head down, and crying. The dog was very well behaved, but she said no when I asked if I could pet him. At first I thought she was blind, but then I saw that she was puking into a bag, and pleading for the street car to go faster. I asked her if there was anything I could do to help, and she said no, she just wanted to get to Bathurst St.
She kept puking and pleading, and I asked her if she needed help when she got to Bathurst St, and she said no, there were friends waiting. Her Christmas gift was a plastic bag that contained my shopping purchase; I could tell she needed that, because the old plastic bag was filed with puke, and she's smell it, every tie she puked again. She thanked me for that, and exited when we got to Bathurst.
At that point, a young woman with 'Maori' type facial tattoos standing next to that seat said she gets like that when she doesn't have her medication. She and I had a conversation for about fifteen minutes, until we reached her stop.
About four city blocks from my stop, the car short turned, and I decided to walk, rather than wait. I had walked about twenty feet, before I saw a young girl sitting in a doorway alcove by the sidewalk, with a hooded sweatshirt covering most of her face, begging in a low voice. I asked her what she wanted, and she said "Anything".
She looked to be about seven years old. I knew I didn't have any coins, because I owe my regular store 50 cents on my next visit, from multiple purchases that day. I thought my wallet was empty. In my coat, I had half a pack of gum, and I gave her that. She thanked me, and I walked on.
About fifteen feet past on the sidewalk, I stopped, and opened my wallet, to see if I had anything else, maybe some US money, tucked in a pocket, or something like that. I noticed I had a twenty dollar bill, from the ATM withdrawal earlier that day. I only withdrew what I needed, but I had more; a guy who owes me will pay me before I need walking around money again.
I went back to the little girl, and told her I had some money I didn't know about, but I couldn't give her the whole twenty dollars. I went across the street to a restaurant, and had my twenty changed into a ten and two fives. I went back across the street, and gave the little girl the ten, and said "I would offer you shelter, but it would not be appropriate for a man my age to do that for a girl your age". She said "And I don't even know you". I asked her if there was anything else I could do, and she said "You've already done more than enough".
I shook her hand, (wrapped in the sleeve of the sweater), and saw her face. She had light black skin, and had that skin disease like Michael Jackson, where she didn't have the melanin pigment in some patches.
A block away, on the other side of the street, I saw a police car, moving slowly, waiting for an opportunity to make a right turn on red. I tapped on the glass of the passenger side, but the car drove on, and turned.
When I got to near my home, some paramedics were helping someone at a street corner. I spoke to one of them, who wasn't actively involved, and told him about the begging girl, exactly where she was, what she was wearing, how old she appeared to be, and how long ago I had seen her. It would not have been inappropriate for him to offer her shelter. He wrote the details down. and seemed interested.
I bought a few groceries with the ten dollars I still had, went home, and fed the cat as soon as I got in the door.
Those were my Christmas gifts: A plastic bag, half a pack of gum, ten dollars, and a fancy cat treat. In return, I received thanks from each of the three recipients.
My friends and I don't exchange gifts at Christmas, but we often give gifts to each other on random dates throughout the year, just never at the same time.
I told my sister in Toronto, going out of town to spend Christmas with her sisters and their families, that I'd like to hear from them, if they want to call on Christmas, but not if it's a 'hit and run' call like they used to do, where I speak to five people in two minutes. I'd rather not speak to them at all, since I haven't seen them in years; I don't travel there, they don't travel here. Christmas with family is not important enough for me to travel to them, despite the standing invitation that I always decline. I don't allow them to pass information to me through my sister that lives in Toronto anymore. There's no animosity between me and them, just mutual disinterest.
I hope one day, I will see that little girl from the sidewalk, grown up, with a smile on her face. I would be able to recognize her, from the parts of her face without pigment. I would hope that she would recognize me first. I can't think of a better gift I could receive, than that.
