“I’m so sorry, but I only have eleven cents.”
Even from several feet away, I could hear the genuine remorse in the woman’s voice. I looked up from my spot on the playground bench where I was spraying sunscreen on my kid’s arm to the mom holding open her empty wallet. The subject of her beseeching was an older, rotund man sitting at the other end of the bench.
He was dressed like a clown, or sort of like a clown, with no official clown costume but just a funny collection of brightly colored clothing he might have found or had lying around: a red sweater, mismatched socks, a multicolored scarf draped loosely around his neck. On his head, however, was the piece that helped me identify his costume at a glance: a balloon headdress, made from his own balloons and pump with which he was making swords, flowers and dogs for children at the playground.
Apparently he had made a flower for the woman’s daughter but now she had no money with which to reward him. He didn’t appear to be an “official” entertainer -- he had no sign, no badge, no predetermined charge for his services, and his appearance suggested a lack of daily personal upkeep. But it was hard for me to tell if he was a kindly old soul finding joy in the local youth or if he was out at just to make a buck. I quickly got my answer.
“Well, there’s not much I can do about that now, is there?” His comments were gruff, with a sarcastic bite. “But it’s not very nice to leave me with eleven cents when your kid gets to walk away with a flower. So the next time you see me here, and you have more than eleven cents in your wallet, I’ll expect you to give me a little something more.”
Sheepishly the mother scurried away to find the little girl who had most likely already forgotten about her balloon flower. With no other immediate customers to occupy him, the man muttered, “Eleven cents? Who leaves the house with just eleven cents?”
Sitting between us on the bench was a boy, about ten years old, seemingly abandoned by friends, or at least uninterested in whatever his peers were doing at this toddler playspace. Turning to the boy, the man addressed his rant to him.
“All these rich moms, trying to take advantage of a guy. How stupid do you have to be to leave the house with eleven cents? Who does that? How many people leave the house with eleven cents?” His aggressive tone left the boy startled and speechless. The man held up his fingers rounded in the shape of a zero. “Zero. That’s how many of these moms leave the house with eleven cents. See this? It’s a zero. Stupid rich broad.”
It looked so odd to me -- this Santa Claus of a man with a balloon on his head addressing this wide-eyed little boy. It should have been gentle words, words of kindness or concern, or silly clown words, and instead it was vituperative hate spit out with patronizing omniscience. My own kid having run off to play, my body stiffened against the bench as the man’s rough address to the boy started to play on repeat. “Zero, I tell you. Stupid, cheating broad.”
I am a mom of three kids in a city that eats up cash like Cookie Monster eats up cookies. I know firsthand how many moms find themselves with eleven cents in their wallets: A lot. And often. What New York City mom hasn’t had a taxi driver pull over to an ATM because she discovers she’s cash-less at the end of a ride? Or had to look at her kids’ disappointed faces because she has no cash to buy their after-school cookie? My wallet seems to be empty more often than not, and even if I do have cash, I still might not have the two or three $1 bills required to purchase a balloon flower from the old man in the park.
As I listened to his rant and watched the boy’s eyes grow wider with bewilderment, I raced through my options for action. I felt like I had to do something. But was the man crazy? Dangerous? Did I need to protect the boy? Why was I so angry at this nutty old man? Why did I feel protective of the mom with the eleven cents? I felt strongly that his slander had to stop, maybe because I thought the little boy should be spared such a display of hate and maybe because I identified with the maligned mom.
For better or for worse, part of being a New Yorker means that you let the characters of the street do their thing and you do yours. It’s a law of the jungle from which I have rarely deviated. But even if he was in a compromised mental state, this man was setting a bad example for the boy (and setting a good example is always top of mind as I parent my three young children) and unfairly judging us hard-working moms. I could have easily just moved to a different bench, sparing myself the diatribe, but instead I surprised myself by reaching for my own wallet.
“If I give you five bucks will you forgive that mom with eleven cents?” I shook the bill at him as I reached across the wide-eyed boy. “She might have been telling the truth, you know.” My city instincts kicked in and I abruptly stood up to push my stroller far, far away. Proselytizing forgiveness to a man of dubious mental status at the park was honorable, I suppose, but I didn’t want it to be capped off with my own martyrdom.
I clearly startled the old man. He took the money slowly and as I walked away I heard him muttering some lame excuse about teaching the boy a values lesson. I doubt my gesture changed his doubting nature; I’m sure he’ll remain convinced that moms everywhere are jilting him out of his living and he’ll keep taking it out on impressionable, young boys. Plus, I might have even encouraged him by rewarding his slander with more money than he would have made from the balloon flower in the first place. I disturbed the the New York street ecosystem -- the fine balance between those who give out the money and those who ask for it. But in the world of playground moms, I’d stood for a small sort of justice. Although there’s no telling what the balloon man said about me after I’d turned my back.
This article appears in Neylan's Column on The Power of Moms.
Way to go! I'm impressed Neylan. I don't know what I would have done.
Posted by: Andrea Holley | June 01, 2009 at 02:32 PM
We need more handsome movie stars in the parks and less crazy balloon dudes, true?
Posted by: eliza dawson | June 01, 2009 at 07:39 PM
loved this. you did the right thing. you had to do something
Posted by: likely | June 10, 2009 at 08:11 AM
This is the first time I've read your writing and it's already clear that I'll be coming back. I've already bookmarked your site. Woo hoo!
My policy is that it's generally better to err on the side of generosity (financially, emotionally, socially, etc.) than to hold back. But at the same time, I don't think it serves others best to be a milquetoasty pushover, to simply hand things off without purpose or intent or thought. I'm also a fan of cutting to the chase. Your response was a good balance of kindness and consideration. Too bad we can't read minds to know what the man was thinking after you walked away.
Posted by: Suzka | June 14, 2009 at 07:59 PM