Don't forget the others
If I ask, "Do you know the homeless man with the 'golden pipes from Columbus?'" I bet you'd know exactly whom I'm referring to… and why not?
The once panhandler who roamed the streets of Ohio's capital has now hit the big time, thanks to a Columbus Dispatch reporter whose video of Williams using his trained radio voice for spare change has went viral across the globe.
As a journalist, there is no greater joy than what reporter Kevin Joy and videographer Doral Chenoweth III did. Wow! Talk about the power of the press. Great job!
But what about all the other Teds and Tinas out on the streets of Columbus, throughout Ohio and America—have you thought about them? For that matter—across the world, there are men and women like Ted Williams hanging on by a thread, simply waiting for a break, walking the streets, praying for just enough money for food or even an extra blanket to keep them warm during the frigid winter's evening.
While we rejoice in Ted's fame and chance at a second start in life and while we hope he can handle all the fame that has been thrown at him in such a short amount of time, does this open our eyes to other men, women and even children living on our streets? Will we drive by them the next time we see them on the side of the road? Will you pretend not to see them and when you pass, make sure that you don't make eye contact because you are afraid they will look directly at you?
I am a firm believer that everyone has a given talent to share with mankind. Whether it is a golden voice tailored for radio, a steady hand to perform surgery or even the nurturing characteristics needed to care for mentally disabled people. Of course Ted is special. Everyone is unique; we shouldn't forget that.
It seems like just yesterday, but in fact, it was years ago. I was exiting the freeway in New Philadelphia. There was a ragged looking man dressed in army fatigues with a dirty duffle bag hanging from his shoulder. The traffic light at this exit seems to have been regulated by a NASCAR operator and within a few seconds it changes from red to green and back to red. So I had fairly long wait.
I had just begun to drive and my mother was in the car with me. Sitting in the driver's seat, I was big stuff. You know, I was going to the mall. Things were good! But then, there was this guy. He frightened me - after all, I was a mere 16 or 17 years old and living in sheltered Tuscarawas County in the early 1990's. One didn't encounter many homeless folks. His cigarette dangled out of his mouth, his hair was gray and straggly. His leather-like skin was weathered. He looked like life had given him a rough ride. He held a sign that read: "Homeless. Need $ 4 food. God Bless You."
As drivers in front of us slowed and handed the man money, I reached for my purse. I needed to give this man some money too. After all, if I was going to the mall, I certainly could spare a few dollars to help someone else. Isn't that what you're supposed to do?
I was promptly told that I didn't know him and he could be dangerous. Therefore, being the good teenager daughter, I promptly put my window down and handed the unknown stranger who was panhandling a few dollars. Needless to say, I was given a stern lecture about how dangerous that was, but for me, I couldn't get past the cardboard sign and, most of all, the man's eyes.
The baby blue eyes looked right at me as I reached my hand out toward him. He didn't look at me; he looked through me. It was like the man was searching for something. He was looking for much more than a few dollars. What he needed no one was going to hand him along the freeway exit.
I never did see the man again, though I've often wondered if he found what he was searching for and hopefully, his story ended like Columbus' Ted Williams. But I doubt it. So while we marvel at Williams' newfound success, please remember the other men and women who call the streets their home—not because they choose to do so, but because circumstances in life have forced them outside.