This Is Our Responsibility

 

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.