Invisible People

Have you ever read Neverwhere by Neil Gayman? If you have not, you should definitely put it on your books-to-read-in-the-near-future list.

In a nutshell, Neverwhere's protagonist, Richard Mayhew, helps a strange girl and by doing so seizes to exist in the London Above and ends up in London underground, along with people, things and creatures that fell through the cracks of civilization. These people and creatures have their own world that is vastly different from the London Above. Even though they are not truly invisible to the regular people, the London Above simply ignores them, or rather immediately forgets them as long as nothing out of the ordinary happens to attract the regular people’s attention.

Over the last few years I have read Neverwhere at least 5 times, always catching new nuances, literary and historical references and hidden jokes. However, no matter how much meaning I tried to find in this creating of Gayman’s wonderfully twisted mind, the book was still a work of fiction.

A few days ago my wife and I went to Lulu’s, a Chinese restaurant in Oakland, Pittsburgh. I eat at Lulu’s fairly frequently because it’s close to my work, the food is good, the prices are low and they make the best smoothies in the world. To actually get inside Lulu’s door, one has to pass by a homeless man that sits on the front steps of the restaurant. In the two years that I have been frequenting Lulu’s, I cannot recall a single occasion when that man wasn’t sitting on his spot, shaking a paper cup and telling people that he hasn’t eaten in days.

Some kind souls believe his sad story and give him a handful of change or a couple of bucks. I generally just walk by him, either ignoring his pleas or telling him to get a job. If he were old or handicapped, I’d be more than happy to give him a couple of dollars or buy him a hot meal. However, the man looks to be in his late 30s to early 40s and just prefers to beg for money rather than work.

So, a few days ago, when my wife and I went to Lulu’s for dinner, I walked by the man without noticing him. In the middle of my meal I realized that the man might not have been there and went outside to check. The homeless man was sitting in his usual spot on the steps, a cup in his hand and a brown liquor-store paper bag on his lap. I went back inside and asked my wife if the man was there when we came in. She told me that he was. Essentially, I walked by the man without noticing him. For all intents and purposes, he became invisible to me.

For the most part, I don’t feel bad about homeless people. While some of them are truly victims of unfortunate circumstances, most are homeless by choice. Years ago I did a story on a whole community of homeless people who live under a bridge in Pittsburgh’s Northside. A couple of pizzas bought me a ticket into their community where I spent a couple of hours talking to them, taking pictures and trying to figure out what makes a person chose a life without a home.

Unlike Florida or California, Pittsburgh is not well suited for outdoor living. There is a saying – “If you don’t like the weather in Pittsburgh, wait for 5 minutes.” The weather here changes constantly, often swinging by as much as 20F in a single day. The winter is cold, summer is humid and rainy and spring and autumn are virtually nonexistent. Nonetheless, homeless people seem to flock to Pittsburgh.

The people who live under the bridge in Pittsburgh’s Northside gave me helpful tips on putting several sheets of cardboard under one’s sleeping bag if one was inclined to sleep under a bridge on a winter night, on jumping trains and on best places to beg. They did not tell me sad stories about not eating for days or being unemployed war veterans. They were just people and being homeless was a lifestyle choice and a job. They did not feel sorry for themselves (except for one guy who kept bumming cigarettes from me and telling him about how his bitch of a wife left him and took all of his money).

I spent over two hours hanging out with these people, eating pizza and chain smoking. I took over 300 photographs. And if I see one of them on the street tomorrow, chances are that I won’t recognize him and walk by, completely oblivious to their existence and their pleas for a meal of 50 cents for a bus.

I am not an uncaring person and neither are most people who walk by beggars and panhandlers every day. It’s not that we are so miserly that we cannot spare two quarters. The people who live on the street are simply invisible to us. So next time you walk by a homeless person, don’t pretend like you don’t see him or her. Look that person in the eye and tell him or her to get a job.