The Invisible Man

Written on September 25, 2009 and originally posted to my Facebook profile.

The Audis, Jaguars, BMWs, and other manner of meticulously polished vehicles plied their way up and down the tony shopping street. Along the red brick sidewalk, the Beautiful People dressed in the latest designer wares walked through the dappled sunshine, hoping to be caught in the best light. Some were shopping. Most, however, were there just to be there, and to be seen. Their social status, or in most cases social ambitions, demanded it.

A man dressed in a silk suit rushed down the sidewalk, phone attached to his ear, no doubt putting the finishing touches on yet another "deal of the century". At the last minute, he swerved to avoid tripping over an obstacle he almost did not see. It was an obstacle most of the Beautiful People did not, or chose not to notice.

Invisible Man sat at his corner like poor Lazarus at the gate of the rich man's house. He was also there to be seen. His motivation, however, was entirely different from that of the Beautiful People. Unlike the Beautiful People who wanted to be seen, Invisible Man needed to be seen.

Sitting at his corner, Invisible Man hoped that just a few crumbs might fall from the Beautiful People's table, that he may eat. If he was not noticed by the Beautiful People, a chilly evening sorting through the dumpsters behind the restaurants for the few scraps that did fall from the tables was in store.

Nobody knew, or for that matter even cared who Invisible Man was or how he even got to be where he was. Perhaps he was an addict, or he had some psychological problems. Maybe he just didn't know any better. Or maybe, just maybe, he had once been one of them--a Beautiful Person. Whatever his story, Invisible Man was a reality the Beautiful People sought to avoid.

I watched as the Beautiful People walked past Invisible Man without even as much as a momentary glance. To them, he blended into the streetscape like a brick in the sidewalk. Could I help Invisible Man? Should I give him money? These thoughts raced across my mind. A lifetime spent living in the city had conditioned me to normally look past all of the invisible people that populate the streets. Why, all of a sudden, did Invisible Man stand out to me? I think it was because Invisible Man demanded my attention.

He made me look into my own soul, and hold the mirror up to myself and consider what I saw. Was I just another person walking along Newbury Street on a sunny Friday afternoon, or was I someone who would see the Invisible Man and the need he represents? Today, I was reminded that I have a choice to make. I have much in my life for which I can be grateful. I can either share what I can of what I have, or I can hoard it as did the rich man.

I did not put money in Invisible Man's cup. I knew that would really not do him any good. Money alone will do nothing to solve Invisible Man's problems, and will likely make them worse. What I can do, is put money in the cup of a local organization that helps many of the invisible people of Boston. A co-worker of mine also told me that they also need help serving meals. Sounds like a good way to spend an evening or two. Perhaps some of the other Beautiful People will too.