Today, I met Russ

Ever since we moved into our North Portland neighborhood in 2008, I have noticed a older, disabled man who goes around the neighborhood collecting cans. Every time I see him, I have that mixed feeling of wanting to help and being afraid to get involved. I don’t have many resources myself and am not sure how much of a difference I could really make, plus not really knowing who this man really even is.

A couple of moths ago, while walking to Walgreens, I had my first interaction with him. I am ashamed to say that even though I came from a very giving Christian family and I work endlessly to help homeless animals, my experience with homeless (and needy) humans is much more limited, and approaching this man brought on a similar level of nervousness as I get when I am about to speak in front of a group of people. But he had two large bags of cans and was trying to also balance some boxes. His mobility was quite limited and it was obviously a struggle.

While Geoff went in the store to get our picnic supplies, I went and asked how I could help. The extent of my assistance really was just to help him arrange the cans in their boxes so that he could manage them more easily—he was going to redeem them for money. He looked a little embarrassed and, in an almost unintelligible voice, quickly explained that these were not hundreds of cans of beer that he had consumed. I responded “of course.”

This interaction is an example of really how much power our mind has over what is significant in our memories. How many people have I exchanged words with that I will never think of again? But this one stuck. And I still see this man every couple of weeks, breathing a sigh of relief that he is still okay, and also feeling guilty for not doing more and empathy for the challenges of his situation. Every day he collects cans, sitting in a wheelchair while he can barely move, walking his chair step-by-step backwards down the streets of North Portland.

Today, on the way to the library, I saw him 3 times. We seemed to be taking overlapping paths down the side streets of Kenton. I had to stop myself from that selfish instinct to cross to the other side of the street. I guess it is human to want to move from what makes us uncomfortable (if you can’t see it, it isn’t there, right?), but it still feels awful to admit. At the last overlap, I also saw a group of young men walking towards him, and I wasn’t completely trusting of their intention. I pulled my cell phone out and acted like I was dialing, while just watching them walk by the man in the wheelchair, making sure they didn’t do anything to harm him. They did not. I would have loved to see them help him, but that did not happen either. Likely they felt the same kind of feelings I did, or maybe nothing at all, is often the case in the blissfulness of youth.

I then decided to approach the man in the wheelchair to see if there was anything I could do to help. I knew that I had a few dollars in my wallet, which is not usually the case for me, and I believe that his day-in-day-out can collecting on the streets earned him some trust in the way he would use the money I could give. He accepted a couple of dollars and we spoke for a little while. I learned he has a home…thank God. He lives quite close to me. He has lived in the neighborhood since 1991, and his wife of 18 years died of a heart attack in 1999. The sadness of this loss was still visible in the way he described it, and my heart aches to think of him separated from his lifetime companion. An inevitable result of growing old with a companion.

After this quick introduction, I had to be on my way. I told him I would see him again because I live in the neighborhood, and to please take care of himself. As I walked away, I realized I still didn’t know WHO he was. I have talked to just a few people who lived on the streets and always later regretted not asking them for their name—it seems like a way to show some human decency and respect for their value as people. I turned around and asked his name—“Russ” he told me, through a mouth with very few remaining teeth and some overall coordination challenges. I told him I was Daniela and again wished him well.

People like Russ evoke a lot of different emotions for me. Guilt, not just for being unable to help him, but for the many times I have turned away from a situation where I should have reached out and done something. Fear, because that could be any of us in the future. Sadness for the constant worry and loneliness I imagine comes with that lifestyle. My hopeful imagination invents a future where he passes from this life to the next peacefully and happily, to be met by his beloved wife of 18 years and spend eternity at peace together.

I am also amazed at his resilience and work ethic—he does not stand by the road with a sign and put hope in the generosity of others. He travels more miles in a day than I probably do in a month by foot. And of course I worry that there may come a day where I won’t see him again. Finally, I also feel shame…because I have the audacity to complain about challenging job situations and relationships, and my financial situation, over the last few years.

Joss Whedon captures a common sentiment in the Dr. Horrible musical, “Anytime you’re hurt, there’s one who has it worse around.” It may well be true that I should be grateful not to be in as hard a situation as Russ, but I’ve always found it distasteful to take comfort in the fact that there is always someone who has it worse than you—it does not seem at all compassionate to take comfort in the bad fortune of others or relief that someone else will suffer more than you. I suppose that, like in every aspect of my life, I will have to practice being in the moment and accepting the present—providing what little help I can when I see Russ, or anyone else in need—realizing that suffering is an avoidable part of the cycle of living, and applying that knowledge to create my own strength .

Common Ground

Animal lovers, like everyone else in this world, are divided by their opinions. What are some controversial subjects to animal lovers? How about: no-kill, dominance, declawing, animal rights, animal testing, vegans, vaccines, breeding, open admission shelters, high quality food, dogs on chains, pit bulls. We also have strong opinions about animal welfare and animal rights organizations. What do you think of these organizations: the Humane Society of the United States, Nathan Winograd, PETA, Best Friends, the ASPCA, ALF, National Animal Interest Alliance?

I recognize that diversity is what makes us beautiful. It is what moves us forward progressively and allows us to find the widest array of answers to life’s questions. What I struggle with is the division that the love of animals seems to create in our communities, and even worse, the ego and conflict this division often leads to. My heart sinks when I hear one animal lover or organization denigrate another. People who do amazing work for animals are just as likely to fall prey to this, and I admit that I am not immune.

Take a few examples…

Here are a few excerpts written by Nathan Winograd, leader of the no-kill movement, about those who support mainstream shelters: “sadistic promoters of killing in the face of readily available lifesaving alternatives,” “vested interest in maintaining the status quo,” “nobodies who are trying to make a name for themselves at the expense of the animals,” and “what do all of these people have in common besides being unethical, lacking personal integrity, and imbibing once too often in the killing Kool Aid?”

From a Facebook supporter of the National Animal Interest Alliance: “I hate, ALL ANIMAL RIGHTS GROUPS!! They spead nothing but lies to make a profit SO DON’T SUCK INTO THIER LIES!!”

The quotes could go on and on…but the point of this blog is that there is a better way. With eight years of experience in the animal welfare/veterinary field, and as a current volunteer with four animal welfare organizations, I know this is true. We need to leave our ego at the door, focus on compassion, and try our very best to see the best intentions in actions of others. 

One group that I volunteer my time with is the Animal Shelter Alliance of Portland (www.asapmetro.org). ASAP is a coalition of the ground-breaking variety…ten animal organizations from four counties coming together to save lives. This is highly unique, as members include open admission shelters, no-kill shelters, government animal control agencies, private shelters, veterinary associations, and more. With five years of successful collaboration, along with a 44% decrease in euthanasia during this time, I think the ASAP coalition model is a great model for other communities to follow in the future. An important part of this success is the respect and collaboration of all participating organizations, which is documented in their Guiding Principles and Commitments. Below are a few of my favorite of their principles, a welcome contrast to the wide-spread anger and conflict we see elsewhere:

• We recognize that all stakeholders in the animal welfare community have a passion for and are dedicated to the mutual goal of saving animals’ lives.
• We are committed to the belief that no one organization or type of organization can achieve this goal alone, that we need one another, and that the only true solution is to work together.
• We agree to foster a mutual respect for one another. When discussing differences of policy and opinion, either publicly or within and among our own organizations, we agree to refrain from speaking disrespectfully of one another. We will also encourage those other individuals and organizations in our sphere of influence to do the same.
• We agree to find common ground, put aside our differences, and work collaboratively to reach the ultimate goal of ending the euthanasia of healthy, social, and treatable companion animals, as well as feral cats, in our community.

Honesty

In our interactions with others, many of us try to be nice and avoid confronting uncomfortable issues with others, instead of offering the truth. There may be value in this tactic, but as someone who has been on the other end of this a lot as of late, the end result is often the double affront of not just being rejected, but also being lied to about that rejection. This shows disrespect to the relationship, and leaves open the question of whether the relationship is unwanted but the effort to communicate this would be too uncomfortable, whether there is such little respect in it that one sees no need to put effort into it, or if avoidance is occurring out of  a genuine desire to preserve the feelings of the other party. 

It is true that sometimes a little tact and softness make a difficult truth easier to handle. But where there is ambiguity, there is room for the imagination to write its own story—and this story is rarely friendly. The options this leaves us in a sometimes unfriendly world are not ideal, but they are the ones we have. If the truth is going to be uncomfortable regardless, isn’t a direct path the best way to get to it and then move forward? What is more compassionate and healthy—truthfulness or avoidance of discomfort?