May incorporate this into the chapter “Sacrifice” of TWOP:
Tuesday, June 30, 2020
I stood on a bus stop downtown, waiting to go pick up my prescriptions. A bus came and stopped, and my bus arrived right behind it. A young man got off the first bus, and called to me, “Are you homeless?” He was offering me this big salad; the tray must have been ten inches square. I said, “Yes, but I’m good.” I waved my hands to say no. “Thank you; thank you! I’ve gotta go,” and I ran to catch my bus.
Where I’m housed now, we’re extremely well fed, as witnessed by my Alfred Hitchcock figure.
Another homeless-looking guy was there, a wheelchair user with one leg. The young man offered it to him, too, and he turned it down.
Outraged with frustration, the young man laid it on the ground and stomped it till the stuff squished out.
I hope this encounter with facts — The homeless aren’t always hungry. What I myself need most at this moment is clothes, not food. — doesn’t have a chilling effect on his altruism, though I suppose somewhat, for a while, it must. He was so eager to help some people, and got disappointed.