He Never Did Like Rice.

Excellent, Sandy.

Sandy, thank you for this. As I read this I was sitting here fuming with rage at the latest my ex husband did tonight but after reading this, somehow that isn't important any more.

Thanks, Lori and Corina. This is one of my favorites (I think of it as my cross between Dr. Suess and Kris Kristoffersen and a wannabe country song) even though it probably won't win any poetry prizes. I will never forget this man and I haven't seen him in over a decade.

This actually brings me back to a homeless man we (my son and me) know (kind of-we haven't exchanged names) in San Francisco. He's in a wheelchair, living in the public restroom by the beach. Not always, but sometimes I have bought him coffee, as have others, from the place across the street. This captures the scence very vividly. He could be elsewhere, but he is there. I've always felt there's a bigger story behind him.

Wow Sandy, I really like this, and even in the situation he was in, he never fully gave up. And you say he was real?

Joanne, you're breaking my heart. The public restroom? Ohhhh. They all have a story. I've tried to get as many of those stories as possible.

Back in my 'real life' - I purposely made sure I connected with homeless people every day (for over twenty years), even if it was only to alter my route so that I would pass a shelter or food kitchen and see them. I worked in an area heavily populated with street people, and often walked during my lunch break so I had the opportunity to make eye contact and speak with them.

I have written a number of stories about the people I've met this way, because they are real people and they they do have real stories, which most were more than willing to share if I let them know I cared.

Yes, Jody, this is real. I love that you see his not eating the rice as never fully giving up. There was something different about this guy. Even though he had the heart-numbing saddness in his eyes, they still managed to spark up when he smiled. I really wanted to take him home with me when I saw him standing in the snow later, and probably would have if my children hadn't been young.

Amazing someone so hungry will not eat something he doesn't like. Tells you of his strong resolve and willpower.

It happens for many reasons, to good people.

Unfortunately, I think we are going to see many of the people who think they are safe (and who look down on and make fun of others who are in these situations) falling into circumstances they never predicted soon. I believe job and housing situations are sitting on a fault line because many people have fallen for the "everyone has the opportunity so let's remove all safety nets" propaganda and made it so.

I really appreciate this poem. I am impressed that this gentleman managed to practice his beliefs despite his poverty.

I think one of the things that i like best about your poem is that you let him speak for himself.

Very effective.

Jadan, I got goosebumps when you called him a "gentleman". Thank you.

And Flit, thank you for appreciating his voice.

John, your rant is perfectly placed.

My grandchildren were the driving force behind the five years I spent fighting everything this administration did. Many people told me I was wasting my time; that I could not make a difference. I disagree, but even if that had been true, I wanted to be able to tell those children that I had done everything I possibly could to save this country for them.

This poem delivered a physical sensation that I felt in my body, perhaps in my heart but beyond. I think it's better poetry than you give yourself credit for, and it builds to a powerful climax. Bringing in the idea of Hanoi was jolting, as was the whole thing. My compliments to the poet!

Thank you, Gerry.

I'm going to comment before I read the other commenters' views, so as not to tarnish my feeling about this piece.

It is beautifully done. Light sounding, yet heavy with meaning. You manage to make it almost like a nursery rhyme. Is that nuts? But truly, it has that feel for me. Until the final verse.

The last stanza shocks, yet has that "Oh, of course! I should have seen that coming," kind of feel to it. It is very powerful, and the sweetness/horror factor increases the power.

I will come back to this after I read what others had to say.

Thank you, Nancy. I feel such a strong responsibility to this person (and all the others like him) to represent them as something more than the blob some people see them as. The feedback you guys have provided makes me think I did bring him past blob status and that is a rewarding feeling for me.

Well, I am gratified at your mention of Dr. Seuss, Sandy. I did not want you to feel I was trivialized your poem by mentioning the nursery rhyme thing, but I really felt it. I see others love this as much as I do, for a variety of reasons.

Excellent work.

I haven't read the other comments, but I wanted to say how much I appreciated your recognition of this man's unrelenting dedication to his own dignity, which he expressed as his right to choose . . . and perhaps more importantly, the right to take pleasure in life, and to decline something displeasing.

Sandy and John, my personal commitments and beliefs are like your own. This was a beautiful poem. Last time I was in D.C., there was a small tent city right across the street from the White House in the park. My husband and I walked through, wondering how anyone in the White House could look out upon the poverty, hopelessness, despair and desperation there and not be moved, but the truth is, many people are not moved. They feel that "everyone" can and should be working, even if it's only at a $5 an hour job that won't pay the rent. I'm glad you feel an obligation to those Americans who don't have the luxuries of a meal and a roof that many of us have. Homeless, helpless ones surround all of us every day, if we would only open our eyes and see the need, and then not turn away. That doesn't mean that my husband and I give to everyone we see. I only wish we could! You know how when you give to someone on the street, they will often say "God bless you"? One evening, I heard this in a new way. I suddenly realized that what I give isn't my money or food or clothing or blankets to give. It has all been given to me. What right do I have to feel smug or self-righteous or "good" for giving? I have been in the beggar's shoes more than once and would be again, even now, were it not for God's blessings. I learned that I was to give with the right heart-attitude and I hope I never forget the lesson. The world is full enough of high and lofty people, looking down on others. Thank you for the work you do, Sandy--for your "ministry" to others. You are clearly not the sort of person who will turn "God bless you" into a meaningless platitude.

This is great, Sandy, I can imagine it accompanied by guitar.... I could tell this was a real person you knew before you revealed it in your comments.

You know me- I aint no fan of poetry or country music, but I appreciated the message and dentiment. My kid has been taught to have compassion for the homeless, which is more than I can say for his peers (remembering ugly incident with eighth grade picnic at a downtown park)...

Dentiment. I said dentiment.

Five points to anyone who can guess what I meant to type...

sentiment.

Nice sentiment Sandy. Down and out and freedom of choice lives!

dentiment . . . clearly you meant to put it in italics, Jackie, as the French word for "a wry, world-recognizing, slightly painful smile," which is exactly one of the reactions I had to this piece.

David, thanks for seeing him the way I did. That doesn't surprise me, since I admire you for not only being great at introspection but for also being able to see as much in others. Most people seem great at one or the other; you amaze me with both.

Jo, Washington depresses me for the reason you point out. Beauty on one side of the street and sadness on the other. Knowing that the people who currently occupy the beautiful side can totally ignore what the see outside their window makes me sick. I am glad you mentioned the irrational criticism people often receive. The only thing we come equally equipped with is time. We have varying degrees of intelligence, strength, health, ambition, hope, love, and opportunity. To believe that everyone can turn what he or she has into 'anything they want' is not rational. I am a socialist at heart, because I believe those of us who were blessed with more should be willing to lift those who didn't get it all this time around. If we don't give what we have, it is worthless, in my opinion.

Aniko, I wish I could hear the music. So far, I can't but I never give up hope that one day I will storm through the block and find the music to go with my wannabe songs.

Thanks, Kenneth. I'm a big fan of all types of freedom.

Sandy, this piece speaks volumes. I was moved. Living in the San Francisco Bay Area, I see men like you describe daily, but because of this.... I see (and experience) the cold-hearted and desensitized population growing along with the problem. None of us are immune to the plight of your man but many have seen so much of it that they hide their bowls of rice behind their backs and avert their eyes quickly for fear of what could befall even them.

Sandy, your reminder for us to actually "see" people rather than look through them or past them is well taken. Whatever the reason behind their plight, they are still our brothers and sisters and deserve to be treated as human beings. Well done.

Sandy this is excellent and so moving! The depth of your empathy and understanding warms me.

Thank you, Heather, Mary Beth, and Debbie. I've had so many people say things to me like, "They have choices," and "He'll spend that money on alcohol," or "It's a scam." Once, people I thought I knew and somewhat respected called the police on a sweet man for no reason other than they didn't want to know he existed - as Heather brings up in her "avert their eyes" statement. I don't understand how people can discard others so easily when often a smile is all they want.

Or better yet - how about the prinicple - if you can't help them, don't hurt them.

I always wonder about their stories... what brought them to where they are.

It reminds me of a man who used to come by our office every day, pushing a shopping cart. People would make fun of him, or they'd shun him. He stunk most days. He drooled every day. Every day we gave him a cigarette and bought him a soda, which sat down outside our office and enjoyed. I always kept popsicles in the freezer for him in the summer, and hot chocolate in the winter for when he came by. Whenever any of us stopped in the mornings for breakfast, we always got an extra biscuit for him.

He talked with a terrible stutter and it was hard to understand him. He walked with a definite limp, and sometimes he would take two steps backwards before he could go forward again. He used that cart, most of the time, to steady himself as he walked through town.

His story: He was a good provider, a healthy, happy man with a wife and family. Until he was robbed one night leaving a grocery store. He was beaten terribly and hit over the head with an iron rod. It damaged his brain so badly that he couldn't work anymore. He forever had that stutter, and the limp.

His wife left him because she couldn't stand to look at him the way he now was. She did not want the burden of taking care of him. He lived with his mother, and every day he got up at the crack of dawn, got dressed and pushed that cart all through town to gather up cans and scrap metal pieces so he could make money to help his mother with the household bills besides the disability check he was receiving.

Four years ago, someone deliberately set fire to the house they lived in. He died trying to save his mother. She did not make it either.

It was heartbreaking.

This is powerful, Sandy. I'm glad I followed the link that led me here.

Sandy -
How odd that I found this because I did a search for articles on the topic of the rice shortage being blasted all over the news today.

It was a weird disconnect to see rice shortage articles coming up with others about how to donate rice to needy people by clicking on some link and then this poem of yours - all on the same page.

I was so glad to read your poem today. I can live without rice. I do like rice but you really put things in perspective. I don't need it. We aren't starving, not today.

Thanks for giving me some balance, perspective and extra compassion today. Odd how it worked out that way, simply by doing a search here, using the words "rice shortage" and then...I found the beauty of this poem.

Jo, I'm glad you weren't disappointed when your search brought you to this poem. Thank you for reading, and for your kind comment. This poem (and the man who inspired it) are important to me, so I am always happy when someone else appreciates it too.

I like this one quite a bit. Very emotive...and somehow too real. It does it's own little bit to bring to life the fact that some of the poorest people need some of the same things; food, shelter and dignity.

Regards,
Doyle I <~~~~~

Thanks, Doyle. It is too real. I'm afraid we'll see a lot more of this realness soon.

I am so glad that I followed Doyle here.

I don't usually enjoy poetry but this really touched me. It's beautiful.

Thanks, Andrea. I'm glad you followed Doyle here, too. This might be too over-the-top to really count as poetry.

Sandy this is absolutely stunning. Another masterpiece straight from your heart. I love the simplicity of the words, and the depth of thought.

At first I thought "rice" was a metaphor for something more profound. But then I realized how honest and straight forward this piece really is. It tugs gently on the heartstrings, as it reminds us all of the human side of this important issue.

I really liked this too!

Was this someone you met?

Sorry, I wanted to force feed him rice. lol
Live, dammit. Live!

Thanks, Bonnie and Debra. This is a true story. I offered rice, and he said he didn't like rice, for real. I created the metaphorical use of the rice later, and don't know if he would agree.

I read this. I know I did. I think it was one of those times when I didn't think anything I could say would feel right in a comment, but I remember discussing this story with you.

It fit with the story of the Reverend and his laundry. The people you show us are always shown with dignity and depth, and compassion, whether they are real or fictional.

This is very deep and touching.

Remember telling me about the Free Rice website?

It can be found here.

The website was featured on the CBS Evening News yesterday. I thought it appropriate to repost the link here on your poem.

Thanks, Dannielle, especially for the comment about how I present people. I know that you know how much that means to me.

Thank you John and Vicky. I'm glad you included that link, Vicky.

Sandy: When I read your work, I find I do not have a comment that has not been said previously. The concept of having a choice in this poem is powerful to me. So often those who are homeless do not feel they have a choice and part of being who we are is to voice our choice and to have our choice respected.

Grems, thank you for your thoughtful comment. part of being who we are is to voice our choice and to have our choice respected. This is so true, and so ignored from both sides.

It's an intriguing piece. Should being dirt poor eliminate free will? There are several different levels in this piece, I respect the thought that went into it. Fascinating.

I feel similarly about Dr. Pepper.

Sandy, I just have to let you know that this brought tears to my eyes. I saw it as being that the only thing he has left is to be able to refuse something that, although for his very sustenance, is a seemingly poor choice under the circumstances, the choice gives him an opportunity to hang onto a piece of his former self, without which sustenance is useless to him anyway. So fills me with ideas of what many of his thoughts must be throughout his days.

Should being dirt poor eliminate free will? Stephanie, I fear many Americans are going to face this on a more personal level than they ever suspected soon. Then again, maybe instead of fearing this, I should welcome it.

Sue, you got me back. Your comment brought tears to my eyes. the choice gives him an opportunity to hang onto a piece of his former self, without which sustenance is useless to him anyway I think the reason this man stayed with me more than so many others (I could write a hundred stories about people like him) is because he was still holding that piece of himself. Many of them try to comfort me with their eyes; he gave to me while still looking out for himself.

"I think the reason this man stayed with me more than so many others ... is because he was still holding that piece of himself."

I think so too, Sandy.

I wish I'd read this when you first posted it, but even though I didn't; I'm glad I found it now. We're in a small town, in the middle of nowhere, pretty much and that time to come that you speak about hit here before you wrote this.
People who "have", and are fine with having, don't ever expect to be in that place - the place where you have no public transport (even if you could afford it), and most people imagine that this only goes on in large cities. NOT TRUE.
We've known and helped the homeless here in nowhere town for a long time and at a couple points in our lives, almost joined them. We know where they stay. We also know that they're good folks, who, for one GOOD reason or another, have found themselves out on the street.
It's not a choice - life happens. Just TRY even calling a shelter to inquire about staying there when you're pretty sure that you'll be without a home within the next few weeks - here, if you've got a car, you'll be told to sleep in it and it doesn't matter whether it's 100 degrees out or -30. One of our friends has been living in her unheated vehicle for going on three years now.
Another place, before we were able to move here (basically two rooms, but it sure beats the alternative!), had us do our own credit check, criminal background check to the tune of $50.00, which we sure had to collect a lot of bottles and cans to be able to get to the library and do it. Once we had that done and brought it back, we were told that although it was low-income, public housing, (and we qualified), we'd never get in there. After asking why, we were told that the waiting list was that long. In fact, the couple that was way ahead of us (and as far as we know, they still haven't gotten housing), had made a deal with The Whole Donut, so that they, in exchange for doing some odd jobs, could park their car in back of the building to live in, and use their bathrooms when they were open (this wasn't a 24 hour place either).
You have to keep and hold a part of yourself together, no matter what, or you'll just give up. We know, a lot of people we care about and with our limited income, try to help, or even just be there to talk to, also know, that this can and does happen to anyone. Dumpster diving anyone? Don't knock it, we did it for over a year.
I'm damned proud of the good people that hang onto a part of themselves while they're going through and living lives that they never dreamt or imagined they'd live.
One of your best, Sandy.
Marilyn

This was very beautiful! I really learned something, because at first when you said he wouldn't eat the rice; I had the thoughts too of why the hell won't he eat it- being so hungry. it was the part at the end that got me, that maybe he treasures choice; because it's all he had left in life- and a comment above somewhere- about should being dirt poor mean that someone doesn't have free will. If the question was posed to me, I would have of course said no; that someone should always have choice- but here I was thinking the guy was nuts for choosing not to eat the rice when he didn't like it. I hope my comment makes sense, I'm pretty tired; and my brain's not exactly functioning properly lol. thank you also for taking the time to read and comment on my post earlier.

Your comment makes perfect sense to me, Ellen. Without the personal experience of meeting different types of people, most of us would not consider different angles. That's one reason I like to write about my experiences and read those of others. For some reason, I've had a fascination with homeless people most of my life so I've purposely met more than most people will. I've written about many of my experiences and even created a group here on Gather for stories and articles about the homeless. I would love for you to join and post your article to it.

Thanks for coming to read this.

I've just joined, and will post my article there, glad you liked it

I wasn't able to respond directly to your comment on my post, so I brought it over here:

You met this guy while you were outside smoking a cigarette and yet you still say this: "but also don't want to be financing someone else's drug/alcohol habit."

Have you stopped to consider how much you might appreciate a cigarette if you were down and out? I smoke and I sure have. For that reason, I don't second guess what others will do with the money I give - I just give it to them and hope they find a few minutes of happiness with it.

I never thought of it that way, but you do make a good point, I know I've been about to go nuts when I've been out of cigs! I also might want to numb myself if I was ever in that situation, and find whatever happiness I could. Now I see why you just give people the money, after reading this post about the guy who didn't like rice. I realized too that I was cautioning against judging people in my post, but was still doing it to some extent myself.

Ellen, I like you! Some people would have been been offended by my comment but you took the time to get to know and understand me. I appreciate that very much.

Right or wrong, I know what I want when I feel the worst - a Coke and a cigarette. Maybe I'm an enabler but I have to put myself in that other person's place.

I've enjoyed meeting you.

I enjoyed meeting you too! I didn't take offense at your comment, I got the impression that you were just pointing out an irony.