The Bleeding Heart and The Cynic

On our way to a friend's house for dinner yesterday, we pass a man (probably in his mid-50's) from the neighborhood who is walking home from the train station.  He is dressed in very normal clothes- jeans, collared shirt, shoes, and holding a folded umbrella under his arm.  Honestly, I would have not even noticed this man had I not heard this from the backseat:

Neve: "Oh no!  Mom, stop the car!"

Me: "Why?"

Neve: "That man needs our help!"

Me: (I happen to be stopping at a stop sign as she says this, so I look to my right and notice the man who appears to be doing just fine without my help.)  "Why does he need our help?"

Neve: "Because... (rolling her 4 year old eyes)... he's poor.  And he's carrying a walking stick.  Because his legs don't work."  (You're right.  I should really step out of my insulated life for a second to take a look at all the suffering of those who don't have the luxury of driving a block away for dinner like us.)



I wanted to say this:

"Neve, it's an umbrella, not a cane.  And he's not asking for help, nor does he look as if he needs help.  And (sadly) we are women who shouldn't go around offering our car as a taxi service to strange men.  And lastly, poor?  Seriously?  That's just called walking... something Mommy clearly doesn't do enough of with you and your sister."

But I couldn't say that because Fiona injects this little nugget of 6 year old wisdom:

Fiona: "Neve, I'm sorry to have to tell you this, BUT... some people are trying to trick you.  They want you to think they can't walk, but they really can."

Me: "Like who?"

Fiona: (exasperated sigh) "People in wheelchairs who hold cups?!"

Neve: "Did you even see what my eyes see-ed?"

Me: "Neve, hold on.  Fiona, why would someone do that?  What do you think they want?"

Fiona: "Um, money?  (pause, 1...2...3...) and little girls?  To kill?"  (Right.  How very naive of me.)



She ends her sentence just as we pull into the driveway of our friends, and they jump out of their car seats and run up to the door before I had a chance to say... I don't know what I would have said actually.

Poor dude is probably just hoping to get home after a long day of work, take a nap, and watch a few episodes of Dirty Jobs and Modern Marvels.  (Isn't there some unspoken understanding that people who prepare for rain are usually upstanding folks?)  And here one daughter is ready to throw him a benefit (for nothing) while the other is ready to prosecute him (for nothing). 

This is why I'm a middle-roader.