A lesson learned at the library

The middle of last week I worked for two days at the Tempe public library. Our new T1 line had not been installed at the new building and all of us were just not getting any work at all done with 9 of us trying to all use the same line. AND we blew up the ‘hot spot’ otherwise known as my bosses iPad. I casually suggested that we would get more work done if Mira (my co-worker) and I were allowed to telecommute for the next few days from home, or if we could work from the library. With no fuss whatsoever, they told us to work where we wanted for the next few days.

Needless to say, I did not want to work from home. Dogs, TV, long needed to be done chores staring me down, neighbors coming over to see why my car is in the driveway…I would not get anything done if I was at home. So we chose to go to the Tempe library.

Mira and I found a nice big table for the two of us on the backside of the library. We had outlets, an exit door right next to us and an amazing view of the courtyard of trees and children walking in and out of the Tempe Historical Museum.

Our first day there was rather uneventful. There was a man with a bandana on reading in front of us and a few others scattered around at other tables. It was nice, quiet and extremely productive for the two of us compared to the past few weeks.

Our second day, we noticed the bandana guy was back for round two, a few more tables were full with other people working on laptops, reading books and studying. A lady came in and sat down at the table just behind us, where she remained all day from the minute we got there until just before we left. 

The Native looking lady was surrounded with books, a newspaper, a bottle of water and some other miscellaneous items that I did not really pay much attention too due to the fact that I was working and minding my own business. She was wearing nice, clean jeans and a big baggy shirt, also clean. She was around my age (I believe), thin and had looked like she had put a brush, recently, through her dark hair.

A few hours later, I emailed my friend sitting across from me and asked her what the lady behind me was doing. Mira replied with a simple ‘painting’.

It did not once dawn on me that she was homeless. Later on that morning it became evident when several other homeless people showed up and to our surprise, spoke with her as if they knew each other.

The first was a crazy black guy that was ranting and raving outside the window about nothing, like he was on some serious drugs. Fortunately he shut up the minute he went in the library doors, except for saying help to the lady.

Next thing you know, a nicely dressed black man approached the women while she was leaning up against the bookshelf and we over heard him apologize to her and said that he hoped he had not offended her in any way. We were trying not to be nosy, but you could not help but over hear the woman somewhat freak out at the man and yelled “no one ever apologizes to me!”. At this point the poor man just turned away and went the other direction.

Then another couple of homeless people passed her outside and said hello, at which point Mira and I had a full on conversation about her popularity in the community as she seemed to have lots of friends that knew her. The final friend being a young hippie man with dreadlocks wearing a beanie in 105 degree weather. But he was actually normal and someone she actually could have an intelligent and not so crazy conversation with. He actually took the time and sat and talked to her outside for as long as they both wanted, after all, they both had time to burn.

I had gotten up to go to the restroom and could not help thinking to myself about her statement “No one ever apologizes to me”. Really, I never thought much about how the homeless are actually treated. I know only what I know from my own experiences and that has been minimal at best. I have given to them when I get the whim, but other than that, usually try to avoid them due to most of them being completely and utterly stinky and filthy, crazy as loons and not in the least bit worried about any of it. I mean, why should I feel sorry for people like this who could pull it together if they really wanted to, ya know? And if not, for god’s sake, there are bathrooms and shelters in which to go clean up a bit. Try a water hose somewhere, or even a local lake with a stolen bar of soap. I just know I would probably be the cleanest bum you’ve ever seen should I have ever become homeless; much like the lady at the library.

Needless to say, I felt sorry for her. And walking back to my table, I saw her painting. She had propped it up against the table leg to dry. It was a 8 X 10 canvas that she had painted a little dog standing on a sidewalk in various shades of blue. And it was good! Not just sort of good, but she actually had some talent. I wondered why it was that such a talented person could end up homeless and how she had gotten to that point.

Just as I sat down, she brought the hippie guy inside and showed off her artwork. He complimented her and I turned and told her I liked her painting and that it was real good. She started to tell me a story about the painting. She informed me that it was Manny Pacquiao’s dog, and proceeded to show me the newspaper and the picture of the exact dog I was looking at in the painting. Turns out he is a Jack Russell named Pacman.

I wanted to hear more of her story and ask her for a photo of the painting on my phone. I was also looking forward to asking her some questions, when unfortunately, a Chinese tutor came and asked her for her table. She quickly packed up and took her belongings and left. I saw her get on a bike just outside my window that I had wondered about earlier. Moving and storage padded blankets and a regular blanket neatly folded into perfect squares bungied to the book rack, 2 plastic bags of cans neatly tied to the front of the handlebars. Neat just like the rest of her.

I have thought about my observations of that day just about daily since and have come to two conclusions. One – homeless people don’t have to be dirty, nasty people if they don’t want to and I now have my proof. Two – that old adage ‘treat people as you wish to be treated’ is true. It’s sad that I had to witness an apology of one human to another to realize that some people of the world are just completely looked over. They too have feelings and can often do with a thank you, an apology or a compliment, much like the rest of us. I will make it my goal, to not turn my back.