Heeled Shoes in the Garbage: Amy Butterwoth, homeless

I am currently sitting in a streetside café called ‘The Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf” (coffeebean.com) on Main Market Street, typing this up on this Sunday afternoon and often sit back to watch the faces of the people passing me by.

Even on a Sunday, people are always on their way to somewhere. Going somewhere and more often than not, always in a hurry. No wonder they don’t have time to walk through the lanes and smaller streets to see the pain and misery that their fellow citizens are going through.

But perhaps one incident here that I will be sure not to forget was the woman who walked close to where I was sitting, to go through the garbage can. Blond hair and quite trendy to look at, she casually walked over, reached into the enclosed can and pulled out two plastic bottles of water. She looked up, saw that I was looking at her actions, smiled and reached in and whipped out a pair of black, heeled shoes. Heeled shoes in the garbage belonging to a café?

As crazy I am, I smiled and walked over to ask this woman if she would like to have a cup of coffee or something to eat. I couldn’t understand much of what she said but it was interesting to watch her gulp down her coffee. “It’s cold here, honey, and I’s ‘ppreciate the cawfee.”

Amy is 38 years old and has been living on the streets of San Francisco for 3 years. “I used ta live closeby to here and got thrown out of my home by my family. I gets around to where I need to when I have to but it is good that people throw away what they do in the garbage – it keeps me getting by.”

Was Amy scared at the prospect of living on the street? “At first, but not now. I don’t owe nothing to nobody and nobody has to depends on me for nothing. Its simple.”

Simple. How funny. Does one have to be evicted, disconnected from all things we know to be normal before we can find simplicity in our lives? Have we become so good at complicating our lives?

As we got into a conversation, we both stopped talking to see another man, probably around the same age, stopping to look through the same garbage can I saw Amy at. She said, “Thanks fer the cawfee. I gots ta take off now.” And I saw her running off down into some street off Market Street.

I must have spent 4 maybe 5 minutes with Amy. I doubt she will even remember me but despite the fact that I know I will remember her, I also know that there are thousands of people like her out there, and I realize the sad truth that there is nothing I or anyone else will remember to do to make her life better. I don’t think they will change things until people like her become important enough to contribute to the booming global economy.