It was described as a
humanitarian crisis. Frantic travelers trying to escape on the next available
way out. Scores of men, and the occasional woman, lying on the ground—disoriented,
unkempt, hopeless. It may have sounded like the evacuation of Kabul airport,
but in reality it was how one particular political candidate accurately called
New York City’s Pennsylvania Station.
Those who walk through,
see, and more importantly, smell Penn Station could only take solace that their
commutes don’t include the inner-most circle of Hell, the Port Authority bus
station that sits a mile or so away. Absent that lowest level of salvation, any
observer could easily confuse Penn Station as some overflow outlet for a
homeless shelter. And so last week while Afghanistan was descending into its
own conflagration, mayoral candidate Curtis Sliwa showed up for a press
conference to decry the wretched state of affairs at the busiest train station
in America.
As if on cue, a homeless
man walked right in front of Sliwa’s podium and interrupted the remarks. In a
nod to our surreal times, the man was shirtless yet managed to have a
clean-looking mask looped around both of his ears. A cop offered to take the
man away, but Sliwa demurred and engaged in conversation. We found out that the
man came from Guyana six years ago; had been hospitalized at Bellevue numerous
times; was supposed to be on medication—an all-too-familiar litany of despair. Almost
casually, Sliwa asked an innocuous, almost obvious, question, “Would you rather
be somewhere else but Penn Station?”
It utterly destroyed the
man.
The man’s body started to
curl inward and his lips lost the battle against quivering. And then the tears
started to flow. Crying of a man who was utterly broken; crying at the
realization that all his life meant was a few square feet on Penn Station’s
filthy floor; crying that he had nothing, absolutely nothing, in life.
Sliwa calmly consoled the
man, telling him, “That’s all right, we’ll take care of you. This is our
responsibility.” This wasn’t some war cry for government spending on social
programs or even a jab at the current the current Mayor (although a
crystallization of all his failures). No, it was a declaration of what our
leaders should do—that is, take responsibility. Sliwa doesn’t run a homeless
shelter, can’t give him medication, and certainly can’t undo this man’s awful
circumstances. But here he showed how a vast, taxpayer-funded bureaucracy had
abandoned any accountability and how we, as a city, cannot accept the current
state.
Sliwa’s display reminded
me of the phrase “compassionate conservative” that George W. Bush used to throw
around. The left snickered at him for it and I feel it was mostly because he
never had the chance to show what it really meant. But in this brief campaign
interaction, Sliwa showed exactly what it meant. It means acting on the root
Judeo-Christian values of helping our fellow man. It means holding those in
power, those who are stewards of tax dollars, accountable for their failures.
It means that one man or woman can change not only one other person’s life, but
also the lives of many others, if they are willing to stand on their
principals.
There are, as they say in
the business world, many, many problems to unpack for this unfortunate man from
Guyana. I’m not sure medications and a shelter cot are even a start to any kind
of a solution, but it’s a start that has to happen. And Sliwa’s winning the mayor’s
race is such a long shot that I doubt any Vegas bookie would lay odds on it.
But one thing is for sure—for a few seconds on a hot summer’s afternoon, Curtis
Sliwa made New York City a better place. For that we should thankful and follow
in his footsteps.
© 2021 Alexander W.
Stephens, All Rights Reserved.
