I decided this month’s column needed to be less salty. It needed to have a bit of a positive spin to it, versus the normal vinegar-laden words that I have for our politicians, miscreants and the like. Yes, I am fine. I think, at the end of the day, I am just exhausted by the anger and disdain this city is leaving. So, why not focus on something that is tangible and relatable that leaves you feeling happy?
Over my almost 48 years of living in the Big Apple, I have seen it all, harrowing and horrifying. But what stands out in my mind are all the acts of kindness I have borne witness to.
As an example, when I was a student at Saint David’s School on East 89th Street between Fifth and Madison Avenues, there was a homeless gentleman named James who used to camp out on 89th and Madison. He did this knowing that there was a concentration of wealthy families whose sons were at school down the block. James wasn’t discerning with respect to where his next dollar was coming from. It didn’t matter whether it was the boys, the parents, or the nannies. And he wasn’t aggressive about panhandling at all. In fact, he always took the higher road when it came to interacting with people. The first time I met James was at the end of my sixth-grade year.
I remember the following Fall, in seventh grade, I learned a lot more about James. Our homeroom teacher, Mr. Barbieri, was new. It was clear as day to our class that he was a very caring, smart, devout man who only wanted the best for the children under his tutelage.
A HELPING HAND
As I began to understand who James was and what his life was like, my best friend, George Happy, and I started asking some of our fellow students if they could help James. At first it was just about a few sodas here and there. Then it became about getting him some hot food and so on. Over the Fall, as we had asked our classmates to chip in, their parents started to do the same. Then it was the teachers. Next thing you know, Sunny who owned Green Tree Deli on Madison and 89th, as well as Mohammed who owned Tobacco Town across the street, were also helping.
It wasn’t until about a week before Christmas break that George and I really began to understand just how great an example of kindness the entire James situation was. Our class decided to put together a Christmas package for him. It wasn’t George or I who came up with this idea. It was, in fact, Mr. Barbieri. He knew how much our class cared for James. So, everyone pooled money together and Mr. Barbieri put together a gift box for James that included a pair of beautiful leather gloves with insulation in them, a heavy wool knit cap and a heavy scarf.
The morning before break, the entire class left the school and walked to the corner to bring James his Christmas present. He cried. He grabbed George and I, giving us the biggest hug. James just couldn’t believe how much love there was for a homeless man on the Upper East Side from a school. Even after I graduated Saint David’s, I came back to check on James at least once a week as I knew he had been diagnosed with AIDS. The school’s children and parents were still helping him. Right up until his passing some ten years later.
A BEAUTIFUL THING
Then there was Daryl, the gentleman that affectionately became known as “The Second Avenue Comic.” Yes, I was in high school, hanging out at pubs up and down the avenue. No, I should not have been there, but that was the mentality of the 80’s and 90’s. I would run into Darryl. He wasn’t panhandling in the traditional sense. He wanted to work for his food. So, he came up with a formula wherein he would approach pub patrons standing outside offering to tell a joke. The caveat was that if the person laughed at the joke, they needed to give him a dollar. Needless to say, Daryl made a lot of money on Second Avenue. I remember the winter of 1993. I was worried he passed away because no one had seen him in a couple of months. As it turned out, he was tired of the brutally cold winters and would spend the colder months doing the same exact thing in South Beach. He was the only bi-city homeless person I had ever met.
My point in all of this is…no matter how dark the day, no matter how contrite the situation, there is always hope. At moments when this city has felt dark, I think back to James, Daryl and the thousands like them who were helped by acts of kindness from people like my classmates and my dear friend George Happy who passed away when we were 16. When I remember George, I try to focus on the smile on his face when James started to cry that Christmas. George knew we had done a beautiful thing for someone who needed it so badly.