Jeanette is a pleasant, demented homeless woman who frequents St. Paul Plaza and the library.
She’s always immaculately dressed. I don’t know how she manages that.
One day, I think in May, walking through St. Paul Plaza, on impulse I approached her and asked if she’d sell me a cigarette. (At that time, I was buying “loose ones.”) Instead, she gave me three Newports.
And she’s done the same thing again almost every day since.
She’ll cross the street in the rain to bring me three Newports.
On the one hand, I’ve pondered whether I’m taking advantage of her. It seems instead that it’s a blessing to her to be able to do this for me.
On the other hand, you don’t want to have a conversation with her. She has a long, long list of public figures whose scandals and deaths she says have been blamed on her.
I am tempted to wish I knew the karmic basis of schizophrenia, that I might pray for her more effectively. But I need to use the tools I have.
God bless Jeanette, and heal her; in this life, or the next.