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In the Spirit of Christmas and Giving
Pink Cheeks and Red Blanket
By Dr. Carol Fleming

It had really been a lovely party: perfect for the celebration of Christmas. A gathering of genuinely nice people, bathed in great cooking smells, and involved in the activities of filling sacks with foodstuffs meant to be given to the homeless. We baked truly great cookies (outdone only by the cookie dough itself) which joined fruits, crackers and nuts in festive, shiny red sacks. Believe me, these were sacks that anybody would enjoy receiving. And, after the conversations, the baking, the filling of sacks, the good-byes, each guest left the party with two of the sacks, to give to the homeless of their choice. Here is where my story begins. I will tell it exactly as it happened...

I am driving home. Now, what to do with the sacks. There are two 'homeless' people that come to mind, people I have observed for quite some time. Perhaps you have, too. I thought first of Red Blanket. This large black woman can be seen downtown, frequently sitting beside the sidewalk. I have seen her share biscuits with the pigeons and I have seen her refuse a dollar bill. I have never heard her speak. I have never received even so much as eye contact when I say 'hello'. She is always wrapped in red blankets. And she wears paper sacks on her feet. Now, these sacks are frequently clean, neatly folded and held on her foot with string. She seems impervious to the flow of people, in disconnect with the rest of us. I would run into her maybe twice a year. She always sits in silent self-containment. This has been going on for quite a few years.

Then there is Pink Cheeks. I became aware of her as I walked up Columbus to my office. She would be found sitting in the entryway of an ethnic import shop, writing notes on napkins that she would leave in front of the door. Many of these notes were quite legible, if not completely sensible. The store owner knew a few things about her: that she thought she was married to Mick Jagger, for instance, and that the wooden sculpture in the window was supposed to represent Mick. Pink Cheeks had pink cheeks brightly rouged on her face. She also would not make eye contact or response, but could be seen walking on North Beach streets in a determined manner when she was not sitting in front of the store.

So, I thought of Red Blanket and Pink Cheeks as I drove home. They would be the ones to whom I'd really like to give the sacks ...but, of course, the chances of running into either of them were quite remote and, heaven knows how many other
homeless would appear in front of me before then.

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The next Monday morning I happened to take the bus downtown. I thought to grab one of the bright red shiny bags as I left the house. The sack was swinging in my hand as I passed the Sutter-Stockton Garage. And, who is walking up the street, not 15 feet away, wrapped in a red blanket? Yes, Red Blanket is right in front of me. Good Heavens! How can this be? I had just thought about her and here she is right in front of me. I smiled and approached and, as instructed, asked first if she would like something to eat? Without losing a step, without even looking at me, she turned her head away and spurned my shiny red offer, even walking around me with her face averted, refusing to acknowledge me. She wanted no part of my sack and me.

This was a fairly stunning rejection. I'll admit that I really admired her for this gesture, but she was sure missing out on some good cookies. That's OK. She must have had something better than cookies. OK, Red Blanket, you win. You were not going to let this do-gooder get her Lady Bountiful card punched on your watch.

I resume my walk down the street, passing a group of three men crouched in a doorway. They were not dressed for success. Maybe four steps along the way my little light bulb went on. I swiveled around and approached the men. You bet your booties, they'd loved to have whatever was in that sack, yes ma'am! Thanks and Merry Christmas! (OK, you guys, now you gotta share that!) yeah, yeah, yeah.

That afternoon, I go home to get my car and run an errand. I grab the remaining sack as I leave the house and walk down the street toward the garage. Then, I happen to glance across the street. Can you guess it, dear reader? There is Pink Cheeks standing in the doorway of an apartment building. There is a car parked in front of her body, but I can clearly see her head and she is talking to nobody, but it is quite a lively little monologue. There is a second that I simply stand there dumbfounded. Pink Cheeks! What are you doing in this neighborhood? Why do you suddenly appear in front of me when I was just thinking of you? When I had just thought to grab the second shiny red sack. Is this a joke? I haven't seen this woman in at least a month and that was on the other side of Russian Hill. Pink Cheeks! I am giggling in disbelief. O.K., here comes your cookies!

I walk directly toward Pink Cheeks, swerving to go around the car and approach her standing on the apartment steps. As my arm extends, as the words, "would you like something to eat?" gather on my lips, I become aware that she is bringing a cup up and out of the front of her pants. It is filled with yellow liquid. She throws the urine on the sidewalk, in front of both of us, and quickly replaced the cup in her pants. She has never stopped talking. The only thought I am dealing with begins. "Dear Miss Manners… What should one do when..." The Miss Manners that lives in my head tells me to carefully study the distances between pigeons on the telephone lines. It is true that they keep a fairly even distance between them, as was discovered by Tinbergen, Lorenze, or someone.

When the sidewalk splash of the second cup is heard, my peripheral vision notes that the cup is being replaced in a sack. Toiletries, no doubt. I resume. "Would you like something to eat?" She smiles, looks me in the eye, and says, "I sure would. Thanks a lot!

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