Hobo Shack

There was this shed on the north end of my college that my old roommate and I called the hobo shack. My other friend seemed to get offended and I understood why.

I'm not someone who's overly PC so I can see both sides, but it also got me to thinking about one of the "good guilts" my Catholic upbringing gave me: social guilt. I can't walk by a homeless person without feeling an intense sense of guilt I didn't do anything for them.

Sure, I always try to spare change when I have some, but I don't think that's enough. I feel like I should be finding them a place to stay or make sure they're sleeping with clean blankets or at the very least get them a coffee or bagel instead of dropping change in their hand and walking quickly so I don't catch any sick-making smell or have to feel uncomfortable if they seem severely mentally disoriented.

But I don't. Instead I daydream about the day I'm finally working and making money and how then I'll go out and help them.

I was thinking that maybe the lesson in this for me (my uneasiness) is that it's easy for a millionaire to give to charity as it is for a happy person to do good unto others, the challenge is being in darkness (material/economic or emotional) and still being able to do good despite it. That's my challenge right now: to do good despite my own obstacles.