August 2023

Sometimes when we’re driving with the kids, we will see someone who is asking for money. In our home, we treat these people with a lot of compassion. 

So, we typically give a single to someone, if we have it, who comes to the side of the car window or is in front of the Mariano’s with their sign. 

I know there are many different ways to see this situation, but I think it can be said that they would probably rather not earn money this way, and that they probably have had many obstacles in their way. 

Recently, the families are from a Pan-Latin American country, typically it seems, Venezuela. They’re very gracious, this kind of family, and they offer this many blessings to you and your life. 

One day, my 12 year old daughter Noa and I were walking west on Belmont coming from Broadway and we crossed Clark and there was a Venezuelan mother with her child. 

We had three singles from the farmers market at Nettlehorst elementary and Noa suggested we give two dollars to the family. I thought it was a lovely idea. 

She then looked up and across the street to the south in front of the Starbucks, she saw another potentially unhoused person. She then suggested that I give him the other dollar. She was thrilled. 

So she gave two dollars to the family, and she said, De nada when they said gracias! Noa said that. Often she’ll then say to me, I’m fluent. I swear, how many words do kids need to know before they near-fully believe they can tell other people they are fluent in that language? It’s like six. 

Anyway, we go across the street together and Noa is nearly skipping because we are single-handedly saving America by simultaneously ending the homelessness, unhoused, and American immigration problems. Venezuela’s too, apparently.

We approach the unhoused human in front of an organization that generated more revenue in 2023 than the GDP of Cambodia, and this person is a young-ish mixed-race American. 

I go to offer the person the single dollar, and I have, you know, a solemn look on my face and holding my daughter's hand in mine, pride beaming from the two of our hearts, he jumps in and says…

Hey yo, hold up, hey, can you please get me a trenta black iced tea with 20 pumps liquid sugar?

I couldn’t believe it. I actually didn’t know what a trenta is. I was that moment’s age old when I learned there was a trenta. Noa, my daughter is stunned in disbelief. What do I do here? 

I’m like, Ahem. Um, uh, what?

Can you please get me a trenta black iced tea with twenty pumps of liquid sugar, and a glazed donut?

Dude, he threw a glazed donut in there. No bullsh. Noa looked at this, you know, American human, with such disbelief, because they were asking for the largest most sugary drink anyone has ever ordered. And then she looked at me. 

Being the adult, I was like, Okay, we can get you your drink. Sure it is strange and quite silly but they deserve to be attended to as well sometimes. 

We go into the Starbucks and Noas like, We’re not going to get that drink and the donut for them, are you? This was the last time she would consider this something “We” were doing together. 

Yes we are because this person is doing something we can only hope that we don’t one day have to do. 

This is a strong line and I can’t use it again, and actually, now it isn’t really bulletproof considering the absurdity of the order. But I used it.

I mean, Noa must be like, Never would you ever let us order a multiple-pumps-of-liquid sugar, 20!? And a sugar donut!? And then for this homeless grifter who looked like they might be at Pitchfork later that weekend or something? 

We ordered the drink. Can I please have a trenta black iced tea with, I look at Noa, 20 pumps of liquid sugar? And a glazed donut?

The barista was like, Wait, How many? 

I’m like 20.

And she’s like, and a glazed donut?

At this point, no one knows what hell is going on. Noa has basically changed her last name standing in line to avoid being associated with me, the barista starts making the drink. 

With every pump, the weight of the cup, the weight of her stare, and then the dissolution of the iced tea turning into a sugar lick, my innocent daughter losing any shred of decency of sense of reason and purpose. I can feel her becoming a republican. 

Fuck this homeless fuck, she said. 

Yeah, she didn’t say that. But man, her face said something pretty f*cking close. 

It turned out to be $8.00 for that drink. I think it cost ten-out-the-door and when we gave it to that dude, I’d like to think he was grateful but man, he might have pulled out his cell phone in front of us and live-streamed some shit like, Yup! These muh fuckers will buy you ANY thing!

I’d also like to think that my daughter Noa still believes in the mission of supporting those who can’t support themselves, and the “there, but for the grace of G-D, go I” and all that stuff, but if I thought about it a bit longer, I bet she’ll be a bit more informed about who she gives her money too. She will be like, I can feel good about giving this non-English speaking Central American mother with her child my money.

But if I see that muh f*cker again, asking me for a trenta black iced tea with 20 pumps of liquid sugar and a glazed donut, I’m gonna tell him, No! That amount of sugar is terrible for your health including diabetes and tooth decay. Also! If you want that much, it sounds more like a luxury than a necessity. I’d love to get you some regular iced tea and some fruit! 

Noa might say that, straight up. What’s more? That person would take it, and, like, in three months, would be working at Starbucks. For real.