{"id":3390,"date":"2011-12-14T22:45:13","date_gmt":"2011-12-15T06:45:13","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.thriveinlife.ca\/?p=3390"},"modified":"2011-12-14T22:45:13","modified_gmt":"2011-12-15T06:45:13","slug":"credit-card-angel","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.thriveinlife.ca\/index.php\/credit-card-angel\/","title":{"rendered":"Credit Card Angel"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a>The city was sweltering under a heat wave that just wouldn\u2019t let up. Before 10 a.m. on the fourth day, the temperature was already nudging 30C. The prospect of another blistering day on the inner city streets was making me cranky. All I wanted was a shady spot on my little balcony, a good book, and a bottomless jug of iced tea.<\/p>\n

At the time, I was unofficial \u2018street mom\u2019 to a group of kids trying to survive on the margins. Somehow they had adopted me when, on a whim, I\u2019d stopped to offer them a basket of peaches that I\u2019d picked up at the farmer\u2019s market down the block. The fruit disappeared in seconds, but the impression they made on me lingered. The next week, I\u2019d baked up a double batch of cookies, and gone back. Within weeks, I was spending most of my free time with them.<\/p>\n

They\u2019d come to accept my presence, true, but gaining their confidence was another matter altogether. The sheer physical, emotional, and psychological burdens of living on the street are enormous in and of themselves. But coping with the attitudes and judgments of the mainstream masses is an additional burden. The kids have grown accustomed to being treated as riffraff, the dregs and failures of society. Once they\u2019ve run up against those kinds of prejudices countless times, it is difficult for them to believe that any other kind of treatment is genuine.<\/p>\n

And here I was, about as mainstream as you could get, offering them fruit, cookies, and respect. Who could blame them for being dubious? The streets had taught them lessons most of us couldn\u2019t even begin to imagine. They\u2019d discovered that it was wise not to trust anyone too much, not to take things at face value, and not to let their guard down, especially with people they didn\u2019t know. As a result, they tested me; repeatedly, and in ingenious ways. When they were finally satisfied \u2013 by some criteria I\u2019ve never discovered \u2013 that I wasn\u2019t a \u2018do-gooder\u2019, a cop, a rat, or a \u2018holy roller\u2019 come to save their eternal souls, little by little they started to relax and talk freely around me.<\/p>\n

As I got to know them, heard their stories, learned about their struggles, hopes, and fears, I couldn\u2019t help but develop a deep fondness for them as individuals, and a greater awareness and respect for the ability of the human spirit to survive, even in the most hostile of circumstances.<\/p>\n

Perhaps that\u2019s what motivated me in the broadest sense, but ideological insight is one thing, the reality is often another, much grittier matter. And as time went by, I started to feel discouraged, as if whatever I could offer was always too little, or too late. It seemed that there was an unending stream of new kids on the street every week, running from abuse, alcoholism, family trouble, or just plain running.<\/p>\n

I was tired, I was burnt out. And on that particular morning the absolute oppression of the summer heat made me decidedly reluctant to head into the heart of the city. I had almost convinced myself that staying at home for the day wouldn\u2019t really matter, when the phone rang.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, Mom, it\u2019s Jinx.\u201d<\/p>\n

I was a bit surprised to hear his voice. Although most of the kids had my number, they rarely called. He seemed to be trying too hard to be casual, when he said \u201cSo, you coming down later?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHmm, not sure yet. It\u2019s pretty hot; probably nobody will be around anyway.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAhh, ok . . . it\u2019s just . . .\u201d A hesitant pause.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s up?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, it\u2019s just that the cops did a \u2018sweep\u2019 last night and closed down all the squats. Nobody\u2019s got anywhere to sleep.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh bugger, well\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

Jinx, independent, strong-willed Jinx, was a favorite of mine. He would never come right out and ask for help, so I wasn\u2019t surprised when he said, instead, \u201cWe could use some cookies, Mom. Just to cheer us up. Y\u2019know?\u201d I could almost hear his cheeky grin through the phone. But then he rushed on, \u201cBut if you\u2019re busy, you know, or . . . well, that\u2019s cool.\u201d<\/p>\n

How could I refuse? \u201cI\u2019ll be down around three, how\u2019s that?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cExcellent! See you at the usual, then.\u201d Click. He was gone.<\/p>\n

The \u2018usual\u2019 was an unused parking lot with benches at the perimeter, and a few bushes that gave off the most half-hearted semblance of shade. Across the street from a cascading fountain where the kids could cool off and get a drink, it was the central meeting place. Some wag amongst them had christened it the Litter Box and the name stuck. Probably meant to be ironic, the name was also a tacit thumbing of the nose to those who treated them like the \u2018waste\u2019 of society. If they weren\u2019t welcome in the mainstream world, they would create their own community within the confines of the streets. The Litter Box was their \u2018town square\u2019 of sorts. And although they didn\u2019t actively discourage other people from stopping by, their simple presence \u2013 up to 40 pierced, tattooed, alternatively-dressed kids at one time \u2013 was often determent enough. Occasionally a hapless tourist would settle on one of the benches, take a quick look around, and beat hasty retreat. The rare accidental visitor who actually stopped to chat was judged \u2018decent\u2019 by the kids \u2013 \u2018decent\u2019 having the double connotation of being a compliment, and at the same time an expression of unexpectedly being treated, well, decently.<\/p>\n

Initially, I didn\u2019t share their sense that they were considered \u2018rejects\u2019 and \u2018misfits\u2019 but after two years of hanging out with them, I had started to change my mind. Watching passersby literally step over panhandling kids, hurtle abuse at them as they walked down the street, call them foul names, and treat them with cold disdain made it difficult for me to uphold the premise that at heart, most people were basically alright.<\/p>\n

The dissembling of the kids\u2019 squats the night before \u2013 tearing down tents, blocking off abandoned buildings – was aimed at \u2018cleaning up\u2019 the city in preparation for the visit of some foreign diplomat or other. It would never do to admit that this city, so clean, so beautiful, so prosperous, had a \u2018homelessness problem.\u2019 Better to just move them all out, and pretend they didn\u2019t exist.<\/p>\n

So my mood, as I walked across that baking slab of concrete to join the kids, was anything but positive. Two or three kids were drowsing on benches, but most of them were huddled around the few spindly trees, talking about the street \u2018clean up\u2019 and wondering what they were going to do for a place to sleep. Tensions were high, morale was low, and the kids were in a strange frame of mind \u2013 rebellious but hopeless at the same time.<\/p>\n

Even the freshly \u2013baked cookies I\u2019d brought didn\u2019t help dispel the gloom. I wondered if anything would ever change for the better. From behind me, I heard a voice call out.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, Mom! Guess what happened to Diamond?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh no,\u201d I thought, \u201cNot more bad news. Please!\u201d<\/p>\n

But it was something else entirely.<\/p>\n

Diamond, a short, frumpy kid who\u2019d lived on the streets far too long, had grown restless in the heat, and had gone off to the shopping center next door to take advantage of the air conditioning. Wandering through the mall, she passed display after display of beautiful, expensive things. But when she reached a store front full of gorgeous prom dresses, she stopped dead and simply stared. There in the window was the most wonderful dress she\u2019d ever seen \u2013 floor length, blue silk, with tiny rhinestone straps and a cut-away back. Something pushed her to go into the shop, and ask if she could try the dress on.<\/p>\n

The shop assistant, taking in her street rags, blue hair, and pierced cheek, looked at her skeptically, then reluctantly handed her the dress on its dainty hanger. Hurrying to the dressing room, discarding her torn combat pants and stained t-shirt on the floor, Diamond slipped into the dress. Then, ignoring the little voice in her head that was telling her how foolish she was \u2013 \u201cyou\u2019ve never even had a date, you don\u2019t even go to school, you\u2019re sure as hell not going to any prom\u201d – she came out of the dressing room to get a proper look at herself in the full-length mirror.<\/p>\n

She couldn\u2019t believe her eyes! The plump, squat, bad-postured kid was gone, and instead she saw a fairy princess reflected back at her \u2013 or at least what she imagined a fairy princess might look like. She couldn\u2019t look away, but stood, mesmerized and rapt, at the image looking back.<\/p>\n

Perhaps her innocent awe touched the other customers in the shop, who knows? But a voice behind her said \u201cWow, that\u2019s really good, isn\u2019t it? You look fantastic!\u201d Diamond turned, and saw a young couple with a baby in a stroller, grinning at her. And then she realized that all<\/em> the customers were looking at her. An older man smiled, nodding, as if to say \u201cYes, you really do<\/em> look beautiful.\u201d<\/p>\n

Used to being treated like she was invisible, she was a bit overwhelmed by the unfamiliarity of the positive attention. But at the same time she felt \u2018normal\u2019 for once, and was reluctant to break the spell.<\/p>\n

Only the saleswoman seemed unimpressed. \u201cSo, are you taking it, or what?\u201d she asked, reaching out to turn the price tag face upwards so Diamond could read it.<\/p>\n

Three hundred and eighty five dollars!<\/p>\n

Oh God, the dress price was more than her living allowance from Social Assistance for an entire month. How could that be? Who can afford things like this?<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, no, I just came in to look, really. I . . .ummm . . .might shop around a bit more before I decide.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSuit yourself,\u201d the clerk said with a barely concealed sneer, turning on her heel and going back to her counter.<\/p>\n

The disdain in her voice brought the silent crush of Diamond\u2019s poverty back to settle over her like a transparent shroud. She took one last look at herself in the tiny mirror on the back of the door, then slid the dress off and returned it to its pink, padded satin hanger.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhatever,\u201d she thought, \u201cWhat would I do with a dress like this anyway? I\u2019m stupid to even think about having nice stuff like this.\u201d And making her way out of the shop, she stomped down the tiny voice that whispered \u201cBut I really, really, wanted that dress. Just this once . . .\u201d<\/p>\n

Deciding to buy herself an ice cream to take the sting away, she was walking slowly towards the frozen treat shop, when she heard someone yelling \u201cWait, hold up! You, girl! Wait!\u201d<\/p>\n

Turning, she saw the saleswoman hurrying down the wide walkway of the mall, gesturing and calling out to her. Confused at first, she suddenly had an awful thought. \u201cOh, my God, she thinks I\u2019ve shoplifted something!\u201d She hadn\u2019t, of course, but, doubting that anyone would believe the word of a street kid against that of the clerk, she was preparing to run, when the woman caught up to her and grabbed her by the arm.<\/p>\n

\u201cWait, damn it! Will you just hold up for a sec!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t take anything.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHuh? You do?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLook, can we sit down for a second? I\u2019m outta breath here.\u201d<\/p>\n

They sat on a bench, and the woman explained, \u201cOK, so after you left the store, this customer who was shopping for a gift for his wife asked me to charge the dress to his credit card. So I did. Then, he says, he wants me to wrap it up all pretty, and go find you and give it to you. Isn\u2019t that amazing? He bought the dress for you<\/em>!\u201d<\/p>\n

She held up a carry bag and handed it to Diamond, who just sat, dumb-founded.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut,\u201d she asked, \u201cWho? Who was he? And why?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDunno,\u201d said the clerk, \u201cBut one thing\u2019s for sure. He really wanted you to have this dress.\u201d Then with a laugh, she added, \u201cMaybe your guardian angel, huh?\u201d<\/p>\n

When Diamond came back to the Litter Box wearing the dress and told us the story, the others grilled her. \u201cWhat did he look like? Where did he go? Have you ever seen him before?\u201d And when they learned that she didn\u2019t have a clue who he was, they were captivated by the possibilities. \u201cMaybe he\u2019s one of those guys who goes around doing nice things for people anonymously,\u201d said one of the girls. \u201cOr someone really rich, with no one to leave his money to, so he\u2019s trying to spend it all.\u201d The speculations got wilder and wilder, with much giggling and hilarity.<\/p>\n

But when one of the guys said \u201cWell how do we know he\u2019s not walking past here right now, and we wouldn\u2019t even know?\u201d we all got quiet. As if we were one single being, we turned towards the street, scrutinizing the people walking past.<\/p>\n

Which one? That older fellow with the cane? Or perhaps that guy who looks like a business executive with his expensive suit? Or maybe that guy with the beard and shades who says \u2018hi\u2019 to us whenever he passes?<\/p>\n

Then Jinx burst out laughing. \u201cKnow what? We\u2019ll never figure out who it was. But what\u2019s really cool is . . .hmm, maybe,\u201d then suddenly shy, he mumbled \u201cmaybe all the \u2018straights\u2019 don\u2019t hate us, after all.\u201d<\/p>\n

There was a dead-silent hush, as people thought that over. Me included.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s hard to define what changed that day, but something dark and ugly seemed to dissipate just a bit. Of course, the actual circumstances of their lives hadn\u2019t changed. The streets are the streets, and in some ways that will never change. But amongst the kids who were there, a subtle shift in attitude occurred. And I know that more than one person was challenged to reconsider what they thought they knew about judging, as well as being judged, by appearance or class or any other superficial generality.<\/p>\n

For my part, I determined to go to the shop and find out the name of the \u2018credit card angel,\u2019 as the kids had nicknamed him. I had some vague idea of contacting him, of thanking him, of perhaps telling him how much impact his gesture had on the kids. But some crisis or other broke out on the street, and I didn\u2019t.<\/p>\n

For a while, I regretted that. But over time I realized that I was glad I hadn\u2019t. For often, when I\u2019d meet someone new, the thought would flit through my mind that they<\/em> could be the \u2018credit card angel.\u2019 And I realized something else \u2013 that simple act of kindness on the part of a stranger had restored my faith in human beings, because, in truth, any one of us could be an angel to someone else.<\/p>\n

More than ten years have passed since that day, and although there are constant hordes of new faces on the streets, \u2018my\u2019 kids have long since gone: some didn\u2019t survive, a handful are in jail. But most have been absorbed into the \u2018straight\u2019 world they claimed to despise, but secretly longed for; they\u2019re pre-occupied with families, mortgages, jobs, and the usual worries and joys of being alive.<\/p>\n

The Litter Box is no more, torn to bits to make way for a fancy parking garage. But whenever I pass the spot, memories and almost-images float through my mind, and there they all are again: a ragtag bunch of kids. And, inevitably, in amidst them, a glimmering flash of deepest blue. And each time, I stop and breathe a silent \u2018thank you\u2019 for the experience, and a blessing for a truly exceptional stranger.<\/p>\n

Maggie Airncliffe Bio:<\/h4>\n

Maggie Airncliffe is a freelance writer and editor who believes in the transformative power of words. And dogs. She lives in a tiny urban space with Gus,\u00a0a rescue mutt with purebred delusions, who believes that rolling in snow (and, sadly, mud) is\u00a0not only his right, but his true vocation. Maggie can be reached at figaro2020@hotmail.com<\/a><\/p>\n

Back to <\/strong>Stories<\/strong><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The city was sweltering under a heat wave that just wouldn\u2019t let up. Before 10 a.m. on the fourth day, the temperature was already nudging 30C. The prospect of another blistering day on the inner city streets was making me cranky. All I wanted was a shady spot on my little balcony, a good book, […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":205,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[19,55,82,47],"tags":[124,154,171,147],"class_list":["post-3390","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-children","category-inspiration","category-street-kids","category-tolerance","tag-children","tag-inspiration","tag-street-kids","tag-tolerance"],"aioseo_notices":[],"views":14823,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thriveinlife.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3390","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thriveinlife.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thriveinlife.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thriveinlife.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/205"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thriveinlife.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3390"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/www.thriveinlife.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3390\/revisions"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.thriveinlife.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3390"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thriveinlife.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3390"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.thriveinlife.ca\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3390"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}