Once upon a time, I was a teenager, and like many other teenagers I wasn’t particularly keen to care about the plight of those less fortunate than myself.

When a homeless person would ask me for money, I’d just claim to have none, or if friends were near I might act tough and tell them to get a job or some other tired refrain that they’ve doubtless heard a million times.

 

Later, when I was older and shed my bad friends I thought nothing of giving them my spare change, or a buck or two. Eventually the problem about giving homeless people money (that they will use it to buy booze or drugs) was revealed to me and again I stopped with the handouts.

 

I learned about coupons exchangeable for food, soup kitchens and other things along those lines. I probably should have donated my time to these services, but to me it seemed inescapable logic that if your lowered standards of living have allowed you to omit showering and to live in cardboard boxes, then if you live in a big city, there is food to be found.

 

Lately I’ve been thinking about it and I’ve come to the conclusion that I was right to begin with.  There is nothing wrong with giving homeless people money.  Sure they will use it to get high, but so what, but thats the closest to happiness most of them will ever reach again.

 

If for half the price of Starbuck’s coffee I can bring a little can bring a little chemically induced happiness into the world, I’m willing to.