In 1987, I worked in New York City and had a luxurious midtown apartment paid for by my company. I was blessed and felt both fortunate and a little too proud. One day as I walked through Tudor City, past immaculate brownstone homes, many occupied by people who worked at the United Nations, two blocks away, I stopped at the end of a street, near a small park. The street ended at a curved, ivy-covered wall and was a full 20 feet above First Avenue. I stood at the wall and looked across First Avenue and saw the United Nations building. Very impressive. Then, I looked down at the street and sidewalk below me. There was a large area covered with cardboard boxes, apparently discarded moving boxes waiting to be picked up by the trashmen. Then, one of the boxes moved, then another and still another. Two of the boxes seemed to be connected and the head of a man appeared between the boxes. He looked around, blinking at the early morning sunrise, yawned, and then disappeared back into his cardboard home. I was both shocked and amazed, then embarrassed and ashamed. I wanted to do something but was frozen in place. Then I saw a small grocery store and went inside for coffee. “Good morning. May I have six cups of coffee with sugar and creamers on the side?” “Of course! Help yourself!”. I took my coffees outside and walked around the corner, down a flight of granite steps and over to the first box. I cleared my throat and said “Anyone like a cup of coffee?”
Two, then three men stuck their heads up and stared at me as if I was a ghost. A fourth, the man I had seen earlier, popped up and said “Sure”. “How do you like it?” “Cream and 3 sugars”. From that day, I began a pilgrimage from my church back in Connecticut to those men, bringing mens’ clothing, toilet articles, and later, blankets. Our church Sunday school children packed toiletries in small plastic bags, parishioners brought in clothing, and I found a supplier of new, wool blankets right in New York who sold them to me for $5.00 each. This experience changed my life from one of easy, self-indulgence and pride to one of service to others through many different outreach efforts in New York, Connecticut, Massachusetts, South Carolina, and now, Maine as I traveled and moved with various career moves. I shared these experiences and the joy of sharing and giving with my two children, who now have children and many of my co-workers. Now they all have the opportunity to grow and thank God for their own blessings. I wrote a poem about this called “Moon Over First Avenue” and used it in a lay sermon years later.
