Recently, I had two interactions with people asking me for money in downtown Eugene that couldn’t have been more different, and they occurred nearly simultaneously.
First, as I approached a pizza joint, a man sitting on the corner asked me for some spare change. I told him, honestly, that I didn’t have any.
He said, “thanks anyway and God bless.”
Literally about 10 seconds later, another man standing a few feet away said: “I’m hungry. Buy me some pizza!” When I repeated my honest claim of no spare change, he said: “Well, I’m going to come in with you and take your pizza.”
It was not a good interaction at all, and it led to a verbal confrontation that was not my proudest moment.
Here’s the thing, though. I remember everything about the aggressive guy—his hair, the clothes he wore, even the tone of his voice. Conversely, I can’t remember any details from the person who wished me a blessed day. Seemingly, a negative interaction takes on an outsized role in my memory.
And I’ll tell you something. I work in downtown Eugene, and I get hit up for money almost daily. The vast majority of the time, the interactions are, at worst, neutral and, at best, downright pleasant.
Yet, with these dual panhandling experiences, I’m probably going to let the bad one simmer throughout my consciousness for a long time. I think we are wired to hold negative experiences much tighter in our minds than good. Perhaps evolution has taught the hard drive in our brains to save space for the time we ran from a saber-toothed cat, lest we need to do it again.
Now, this column isn’t a plea to either be nice to those living on the streets or to rail against them. Everyone needs to make up their own mind about how our crisis of homelessness impacts them personally.
A plea for logic
But this column is a plea to apply logic, basic risk assessment, and odds-making when you venture into our community’s downtown spaces.
I’ve lived in Eugene for 11 years and for the bulk of that time, worked downtown. In penning this column, I’ve forced myself to think back on those years and my interactions with those living unhoused. In all that time I’ve had four instances that were truly negative. And I’m not talking negative in the form of physical violence or true risk to my well-being. I’m talking about uncomfortable verbal interactions.
That’s it. Four times, in 11 years where someone swore at me or screamed at me or said something that made me cringe.
• Caveat number 1. I’m a straight, white male. I would never assume that my interactions in a downtown area are the same as a female or a member of a minority group. I can only surmise that their experiences are going to be different, and most likely, worse than mine.
• Caveat number 2. My life experience with the homeless is colored by living in much larger metro areas, including Seattle, Denver, and the Bay Area. I came to Eugene after decades of experiences in cities with ten times the homeless population and ten times the problems. I know Eugene’s situation with homelessness is bad, but it could be worse.
Back to my plea in this column: It is simply to try to put the interactions you have with those who live unhoused into perspective. Yes, if you spend enough time in the urban core, you’re going to run into some unpleasantness—maybe worse.
But just as you’ll most likely hold onto those unpleasant occurrences, try to also remember all the times absolutely nothing happens as you walk the sidewalks to work or to the theater or to a restaurant.
It’s like driving. You’ve traveled countless miles over countless roads without an accident or a reckless driver nearly running you into a highway abutment. But those safe and incident-free miles are forgotten as soon as you pull into your driveway. Yet that SUV that nearly sideswipes your sedan? Now that’s going to stay tucked away in your mind for a long time.
However, you won’t think twice about returning to your car the next day and heading out on Main Street.
We live in a region that is experiencing a crisis of homelessness. But we also live in a community where one can walk through this crisis unscathed and unbothered.
And who knows? Someone asking you for money may even say, “god bless you,” when you turn them down.
Michael Dunne is the radio host of On The Record at KLCC, and a contributing columnist to The Chronicle.
