Alms for the Poor

When turning down a panhandler, in New York or elsewhere, I live by the timeless advice on page 13 of The Vogue Book of Etiquette of 1948. "If one is asked for charity, an apology must accompany a refusal" goes the rule. But one gets tired of always having to say "Sorry."

On January 13, as a halfway measure, I left for the city with a sealed box of cookies, resolved to offer it as a token of goodwill to the very first panhandler who asked me for money. But was it goodwill?

This was a box of Girl Scout Thin Mints, a product shot through, like most packaged tasties, with death-dealing, all-American hydrogenated oils. To keep my name in good odor in my community, I buy this health hazard in quantities of three or four each time a Girl Scout corners me at home. Eating the cookies is out of the question, but neither can I bring myself to throw them in the garbage.

Once in the city, in spite of my resolve, I passed up one opportunity after the other to rid myself of the cookies, or at least try. It was nighttime now and I was crossing West 8th Street, headed for my hole to New Jersey, as I call it-the 9th Street PATH station one block north-when a black man in a snap-brim cap called out, "Can you spare some change to get sumpin to eat on?"

The fellow was wearing a tent-like green coat that jutted over his midsection and hung down from there, leaving his legs looking thin and marooned. I walked past the guy but then came back and made him a dubious gift of the cookies.

"Thank you, I really do appreciate it," he said, and immediately got busy with the bright green box, sliding his thumb under the tab like an expert.

Leaving the panhandler, I went on my way, stopping at my favorite health food store to pick up some yogurt and bread for my breakfast. Five minutes later, stricken with guilt, I returned to the corner to check on the panhandler and found him at work again, hustling for change. The box of cookies was nowhere in sight. Had he eaten both sleeves in my short time away?

I spoke to the man. "Say listen, do you mind that I gave you the cookies? They're loaded with hydrogenated oils, you know."

"Hey, I was hungry," the man said in gratitude. I added a quarter to my gift, dropping the coin in his outstretched palm.

Still, I decided the cookies were wrong, and vowed next time to bring a clementine instead.