Anchor ads are not supported on this page.

4S Ranch Allied Gardens Alpine Baja Balboa Park Bankers Hill Barrio Logan Bay Ho Bay Park Black Mountain Ranch Blossom Valley Bonita Bonsall Borrego Springs Boulevard Campo Cardiff-by-the-Sea Carlsbad Carmel Mountain Carmel Valley Chollas View Chula Vista City College City Heights Clairemont College Area Coronado CSU San Marcos Cuyamaca College Del Cerro Del Mar Descanso Downtown San Diego Eastlake East Village El Cajon Emerald Hills Encanto Encinitas Escondido Fallbrook Fletcher Hills Golden Hill Grant Hill Grantville Grossmont College Guatay Harbor Island Hillcrest Imperial Beach Imperial Valley Jacumba Jamacha-Lomita Jamul Julian Kearny Mesa Kensington La Jolla Lakeside La Mesa Lemon Grove Leucadia Liberty Station Lincoln Acres Lincoln Park Linda Vista Little Italy Logan Heights Mesa College Midway District MiraCosta College Miramar Miramar College Mira Mesa Mission Beach Mission Hills Mission Valley Mountain View Mount Hope Mount Laguna National City Nestor Normal Heights North Park Oak Park Ocean Beach Oceanside Old Town Otay Mesa Pacific Beach Pala Palomar College Palomar Mountain Paradise Hills Pauma Valley Pine Valley Point Loma Point Loma Nazarene Potrero Poway Rainbow Ramona Rancho Bernardo Rancho Penasquitos Rancho San Diego Rancho Santa Fe Rolando San Carlos San Marcos San Onofre Santa Ysabel Santee San Ysidro Scripps Ranch SDSU Serra Mesa Shelltown Shelter Island Sherman Heights Skyline Solana Beach Sorrento Valley Southcrest South Park Southwestern College Spring Valley Stockton Talmadge Temecula Tierrasanta Tijuana UCSD University City University Heights USD Valencia Park Valley Center Vista Warner Springs

I call spare change “spange”

I once bought a half-pint of whiskey with a fiver I borrowed from a colleague in a 12-step program.

I am constantly revising my own rules regarding panhandlers. I can’t seem to stick to one policy with any consistency. For a time, my rule was to give some money — never a great amount — only to women who appeared disabled or debilitated in some way, certainly if they were elderly or any of whom were impaired in some way, physically or mentally. Any women with children as well, but I encountered only one such case, the young mother of a young girl. My generosity and wallet permitted up to four dollars on that occasion.

Another proviso, the one I still maintain, mostly, is not to give money to young men who have every appearance of employability at something or other. I do, however, refrain from saying, “Get a job!” because, who knows? Maybe the guy’s spine doesn’t go all the way to his brain.

I do try to avoid being a tight-assed jerk, because, while I have never exactly stood on a corner asking for spare change, I have borrowed $2 or $5 here and there from friends and on one or more occasions, coworkers. This usually goes for coffee or a sandwich on the day or two before payday, but I once bought a half-pint of whiskey with a fiver I borrowed from a colleague in a 12-step program. In return for my imposition, he went out and bought me a $20 gift card for Starbucks without my paying him back for months. I must get him a gift in return, but I don’t know what he likes. We are that close, you see? This may not constitute panhandling, but how much closer can it be?

Sponsored
Sponsored

I saw a bus the other day, and on its side was a message printed in block letters, “The words homeless and veteran should never be used in the same sentence.” This sounded more like a rule of grammar to me rather than an appeal for sanity in regard to servicemen returning to civilian life. And I admit I have a sympathetic prejudice toward combat vets, who I think I can recognize due to what has been called that “thousand-yard stare.” But what am I gonna do, ask to see their discharge papers? I’ve seen crackheads with that thousand-yard stare.

I’ll tell you about one young man of the type I just mentioned. This guy was maybe 24. This was in front of the Hard Rock Café, downtown, where the young turk squatted next to, I assumed, his girlfriend. The young lady had tattoos covering her calves, forearms, biceps, and neck — a lot of flowers and some iron crosses, death’s heads, and a puppy dog, with the words “mad dog” inked beneath the little fellow’s representation. They were all pretty good tattoos. Her hair was dyed in a color that does not occur in nature. The guy looked fairly normal, with an Ozzie Osbourne T-shirt and acceptably bleached-out jeans. His tennis shoes matched, looked fairly new. He was making an effort at a nascent beard. Hair, medium long. He looked like he could be a longshoreman, an ironworker, or a bricklayer’s apprentice. He held a sign that read, “Homeless and hungry.”

His girlfriend called after me as I walked past, “C’mon! You got money. I know it. Hey, c’mon, ya bastid!”

Moving to Market and Fifth, I heard a guitar player nearby. He was standing on the corner playing a Yamaha acoustic, not terribly well, but okay. His voice was ragged and drifted off key. He looked to be about my age and definitely had that thousand-yard stare. Ponytail, gray; goatee, same; aviator shades. It was what he was playing that caught my attention. It was, “I used to be somebody/ but now I’m somebody else,” from the movie Crazy Heart. I loved that movie and its music. As I got closer and put a dollar into his gig bag, which held another eight bucks or so, he started another song. At first I thought it was “Nobody Knows You When You’re Down and Out.” Similar chords, the way he did it; but it was actually the old Depression song “Brother, Can You Spare a Dime?”

He sang, “Once in khaki suits/ Gee, we looked swell/Full of that Yankee Doodley Dum,/ Half a million boots went sloggin’ thru hell/ I was the kid with the drum. Say, don’t you remember, my name’s Al. It was Al all the time/ Why don’t you remember? I’m your pal./ Brother can you spare a dime?”

Turns out he was 82nd Airborne from ’69 to ’71. He was half deaf from a mortar barrage, which accounted for his playing and singing that kept going off the rails. I gave him a picture of Abraham Lincoln.

The latest copy of the Reader

Here's something you might be interested in.
Submit a free classified
or view all
Previous article

Issa aide collaborates with Ukrainians

Carlsbad's Tracy Slepcevic, Warrior Mom, and her ties to RFK, Jr.
Next Article

Live Five: Greyboy Allstars, Acoustic Revolt, Scary Pierre, Thee Sacred Souls, Glass Spells

Anniversaries, record releases, and fundraisers in Solana Beach, Ocean Beach, Little Italy, and Midway District

I am constantly revising my own rules regarding panhandlers. I can’t seem to stick to one policy with any consistency. For a time, my rule was to give some money — never a great amount — only to women who appeared disabled or debilitated in some way, certainly if they were elderly or any of whom were impaired in some way, physically or mentally. Any women with children as well, but I encountered only one such case, the young mother of a young girl. My generosity and wallet permitted up to four dollars on that occasion.

Another proviso, the one I still maintain, mostly, is not to give money to young men who have every appearance of employability at something or other. I do, however, refrain from saying, “Get a job!” because, who knows? Maybe the guy’s spine doesn’t go all the way to his brain.

I do try to avoid being a tight-assed jerk, because, while I have never exactly stood on a corner asking for spare change, I have borrowed $2 or $5 here and there from friends and on one or more occasions, coworkers. This usually goes for coffee or a sandwich on the day or two before payday, but I once bought a half-pint of whiskey with a fiver I borrowed from a colleague in a 12-step program. In return for my imposition, he went out and bought me a $20 gift card for Starbucks without my paying him back for months. I must get him a gift in return, but I don’t know what he likes. We are that close, you see? This may not constitute panhandling, but how much closer can it be?

Sponsored
Sponsored

I saw a bus the other day, and on its side was a message printed in block letters, “The words homeless and veteran should never be used in the same sentence.” This sounded more like a rule of grammar to me rather than an appeal for sanity in regard to servicemen returning to civilian life. And I admit I have a sympathetic prejudice toward combat vets, who I think I can recognize due to what has been called that “thousand-yard stare.” But what am I gonna do, ask to see their discharge papers? I’ve seen crackheads with that thousand-yard stare.

I’ll tell you about one young man of the type I just mentioned. This guy was maybe 24. This was in front of the Hard Rock Café, downtown, where the young turk squatted next to, I assumed, his girlfriend. The young lady had tattoos covering her calves, forearms, biceps, and neck — a lot of flowers and some iron crosses, death’s heads, and a puppy dog, with the words “mad dog” inked beneath the little fellow’s representation. They were all pretty good tattoos. Her hair was dyed in a color that does not occur in nature. The guy looked fairly normal, with an Ozzie Osbourne T-shirt and acceptably bleached-out jeans. His tennis shoes matched, looked fairly new. He was making an effort at a nascent beard. Hair, medium long. He looked like he could be a longshoreman, an ironworker, or a bricklayer’s apprentice. He held a sign that read, “Homeless and hungry.”

His girlfriend called after me as I walked past, “C’mon! You got money. I know it. Hey, c’mon, ya bastid!”

Moving to Market and Fifth, I heard a guitar player nearby. He was standing on the corner playing a Yamaha acoustic, not terribly well, but okay. His voice was ragged and drifted off key. He looked to be about my age and definitely had that thousand-yard stare. Ponytail, gray; goatee, same; aviator shades. It was what he was playing that caught my attention. It was, “I used to be somebody/ but now I’m somebody else,” from the movie Crazy Heart. I loved that movie and its music. As I got closer and put a dollar into his gig bag, which held another eight bucks or so, he started another song. At first I thought it was “Nobody Knows You When You’re Down and Out.” Similar chords, the way he did it; but it was actually the old Depression song “Brother, Can You Spare a Dime?”

He sang, “Once in khaki suits/ Gee, we looked swell/Full of that Yankee Doodley Dum,/ Half a million boots went sloggin’ thru hell/ I was the kid with the drum. Say, don’t you remember, my name’s Al. It was Al all the time/ Why don’t you remember? I’m your pal./ Brother can you spare a dime?”

Turns out he was 82nd Airborne from ’69 to ’71. He was half deaf from a mortar barrage, which accounted for his playing and singing that kept going off the rails. I gave him a picture of Abraham Lincoln.

Comments
Sponsored

The latest copy of the Reader

Here's something you might be interested in.
Submit a free classified
or view all
Previous article

Tuna within 3-day range Back in the Counts

Mind the rockfish regulations
Next Article

For nutty pies at Pizza by Aromi in La Mesa

Sicilian cousins add to the Italian goodness they dish out around Lake Murray
Comments
Ask a Hipster — Advice you didn't know you needed Big Screen — Movie commentary Blurt — Music's inside track Booze News — San Diego spirits Classical Music — Immortal beauty Classifieds — Free and easy Cover Stories — Front-page features Drinks All Around — Bartenders' drink recipes Excerpts — Literary and spiritual excerpts Feast! — Food & drink reviews Feature Stories — Local news & stories Fishing Report — What’s getting hooked from ship and shore From the Archives — Spotlight on the past Golden Dreams — Talk of the town The Gonzo Report — Making the musical scene, or at least reporting from it Letters — Our inbox Movies@Home — Local movie buffs share favorites Movie Reviews — Our critics' picks and pans Musician Interviews — Up close with local artists Neighborhood News from Stringers — Hyperlocal news News Ticker — News & politics Obermeyer — San Diego politics illustrated Outdoors — Weekly changes in flora and fauna Overheard in San Diego — Eavesdropping illustrated Poetry — The old and the new Reader Travel — Travel section built by travelers Reading — The hunt for intellectuals Roam-O-Rama — SoCal's best hiking/biking trails San Diego Beer — Inside San Diego suds SD on the QT — Almost factual news Sheep and Goats — Places of worship Special Issues — The best of Street Style — San Diego streets have style Surf Diego — Real stories from those braving the waves Theater — On stage in San Diego this week Tin Fork — Silver spoon alternative Under the Radar — Matt Potter's undercover work Unforgettable — Long-ago San Diego Unreal Estate — San Diego's priciest pads Your Week — Daily event picks
4S Ranch Allied Gardens Alpine Baja Balboa Park Bankers Hill Barrio Logan Bay Ho Bay Park Black Mountain Ranch Blossom Valley Bonita Bonsall Borrego Springs Boulevard Campo Cardiff-by-the-Sea Carlsbad Carmel Mountain Carmel Valley Chollas View Chula Vista City College City Heights Clairemont College Area Coronado CSU San Marcos Cuyamaca College Del Cerro Del Mar Descanso Downtown San Diego Eastlake East Village El Cajon Emerald Hills Encanto Encinitas Escondido Fallbrook Fletcher Hills Golden Hill Grant Hill Grantville Grossmont College Guatay Harbor Island Hillcrest Imperial Beach Imperial Valley Jacumba Jamacha-Lomita Jamul Julian Kearny Mesa Kensington La Jolla Lakeside La Mesa Lemon Grove Leucadia Liberty Station Lincoln Acres Lincoln Park Linda Vista Little Italy Logan Heights Mesa College Midway District MiraCosta College Miramar Miramar College Mira Mesa Mission Beach Mission Hills Mission Valley Mountain View Mount Hope Mount Laguna National City Nestor Normal Heights North Park Oak Park Ocean Beach Oceanside Old Town Otay Mesa Pacific Beach Pala Palomar College Palomar Mountain Paradise Hills Pauma Valley Pine Valley Point Loma Point Loma Nazarene Potrero Poway Rainbow Ramona Rancho Bernardo Rancho Penasquitos Rancho San Diego Rancho Santa Fe Rolando San Carlos San Marcos San Onofre Santa Ysabel Santee San Ysidro Scripps Ranch SDSU Serra Mesa Shelltown Shelter Island Sherman Heights Skyline Solana Beach Sorrento Valley Southcrest South Park Southwestern College Spring Valley Stockton Talmadge Temecula Tierrasanta Tijuana UCSD University City University Heights USD Valencia Park Valley Center Vista Warner Springs
Close

Anchor ads are not supported on this page.

This Week’s Reader This Week’s Reader