i-n-s-p-i-r-e-d

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What's in a word--especially one like that. INSPIRED. It's one of those words that seems like it could change a whole life if it wanted to. Epic, somehow. But I tend to think that little things, 5-minute-things, inspire the most. Maybe not world-changing, but those moments that leave you reeling, leave you feeling, writing in your head, changed in some perhaps imperceptible way. Not Tony Robbins, syrupy-sweet, inspired, just...well, far more than pedestrian?

And in the midst of an epic academic year that, at least this semester, has left me academically less-than-well-motivated and overdoing everything else (as usual), those moments that leave apathy in the dust of the pickup truck on a country road? Those are worth it. Like, say, some Saturday afternoon when I had who-knows-how-much work to do and who-knows-how-many unwritten papers.

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1:07 (ish) pm. Collecting money to keep the overflow homeless shelter open for the fall.

I hate fundraising. Say that all the time, with that half-meaning-it, want-to-get-out-of-doing-fundraising-work (especially-when-it's-on-the-weekend) mantra. "I'm a doer, not a fundraiser." Whatever bs that is. "I'll just leave it to fundraising coordinators--they're so good at it! Me? Just another Dwight Hall kid, like the service, hate the money aspect of it."

Alas, of course, this weekend, with all the work I have to do piling up my brain cells; "We're fundrasing, guys--one last hurrah, Saturday and Sunday, all I'm asking is half an hour from each of you."

Crap. I've gotten out of almost everything thus far in the asking-for-money category. Here goes nothing. Out into the half-raining New Haven Saturday, two of us on the 12:30 to 1:30 shift. Par-tay.

Back to 1:07 (ish). Almost everyone just walks by, occasionally half-smiling an apologetic "Sorry--no cash on me". Totally true, best of intentions, still leaves no dinero in the jar. Less often (and more frustrating), complete ignorance. As if they thought if they could just avoid eye contact, then any hint of that pesky guilt would just wash itself away.

Along the way, a few shows of generosity that send our hearts jumping a bit--5 bucks and a "thanks for doing this, it's really important", an army officer who spends a good 3 minutes digging through his pockets to give "whatever he can"--seeming to search for some spare change or a few ones, only to find a $20 and hand it over, without a second thought. Good moments. But on the whole, mostly empty stares. "Sorry, not today"s and the sidewards glance of a rushed college student off to the gym or a conference attendee wondering why New Haven has such issues with homelessness when it clearly has plenty of money at that big ol' Ivy League school (we wonder this, too).

Kind of out of nowhere comes a man, clearly down on his luck (or whatever the most convenient/PC euphemism for it is nowadays), and asks, "but isn't the overflow closed? Closed a few days ago..." Says it like someone who knows the place well, has been there--perhaps that few days ago.

"Yeah, it just closed, we're raising money to keep it open this fall, so it doesn't happen again..." Our response, clearly rehearsed, meaningful nonetheless.

He ponders this for a minute, and as he says "ahh, I see" we catch a glimpse of the half-toothless smile he dons, no doubt setting off a chain of reactions in our heads about asking this perchance homeless man for money to "help the homeless", however pure our intentions.

Then, just as my brain starts churning, wondering if he'll be one of those "I'll-hang-around-and-talk-for-the-rest-of-the-afternoon" types--not uncommon, and certainly not unwelcome, just one we know well--the guy digs into his pocket, slowly pulls out two dollar bills, kind of weighs 'em in his hands to see if he can give out of this complete inabundance, and as he starts to place a dollar in the jar, goes,

"Any way I could get 75 cents back?"

"Wha--yes, yes, of course, um...here, let me grab some quarters for you...thank you so much, thank you," stumbles one of our voices as our hands fumble through the jar to finds the coins and hand them to him.

"Yeah, I might need it," he says, and goes on his way, up York street on what's likely been another rainy day without much shelter.

Jess, my fundraising buddy for the day, and I look at each other as he walks away, and both know we're thinking the same crazy thing.

"I'm seriously starting to cry right now," she says, then proceeds to completely empty the contents of her wallet into out jar--an act which, for some reason, hadn't occurred to either of us up until that point.

Me? I'm speechless. Stuck there, hands halfway to do the exact same thing when I realize there's no wallet in my bag (who needs one for brunch and fundraising, really?), still not comprehending what's just happened.

There's this mixed bag of feeling both utterly helpless at what just happened and wanting to yell at everyone on the street and ask why oh why can our abundance not help?

The only thing left to do at this point, at least from my perspective, is to beg and plead with everyone on the street now for every cent they can give. All the discomfort and "I hate fundraising", nice and quiet Andrea aside, it's all "Sir, please would you donate today? The shelter just closed and it's really important..." Left, right, and center.

No one's really giving any differently. Still a bunch of blank stares, half-grumbles about "I give through my church" (again, true and fantastic way to give). A bunch more "Really, if I wasn't paying with my credit card, I'd..."

Nothing that noticeable, giving-wise. We probably raised less than 70 bucks in that hour.

Jess and I, though, didn't even see the money in the jar at the end of our hour. That guy, that 25 cents, seeing him talking to us and then walk up York street like...well there's nothing to compare it to, really. The image is still stuck in my brain.

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I don't think inspiration even has to be a positive thing. Maybe just straying from the humdrum of the everyday. Something that makes you think, makes you do things differently, makes you less apathetic. Like a homeless guy giving money to the shelter. It's good stuff.
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