Day 108 - Panhandler Story

Panhandler Story

Matthew Ryan Fischer

It was the middle of the afternoon, but the sounds and laughter of revelry and alcohol consumption could already be heard in the distance. The spillover from Bourbon Street excitement was always like that. Time was just a number and there was always time for fun. Things were more reserved in nearby Jackson Square. Jackson Square was home to the eclectic vendor, surrounded by historic buildings, and filled with street performers, panhandlers and various other urchins and blights on society.

Tourists and the occasional local traversed the square. Sudden pop-up groups gathered when a street performer’s show abruptly erupted in excitement. Others listened to the notes of the musician or absorbed the images of the artistic creations. Many would soon be found on Bourbon Street, but there was no real need to rush things. This was a chance to have a little bit of culture before experiencing the other delights New Orleans offered. Besides, alcohol was sold in Jackson Square just as readily as it was a few blocks away, so for the impatient the great escape was already available.

A street magician performed simple card tricks, but didn’t possess enough magic to draw a large crowd.

A spray paint artist could create the sun and the stars and alien worlds, and while each work carried with it the pretense of imagination, upon close inspection of them together, they highlighted the artist’s well rehearsed process and assembly line techniques.

A young boy, who couldn’t have been older than twelve, played a trombone far too well for the few coins that were in the case on the ground.

A septet, if a washboard truly counted as an instrument, played Hot Jazz and featured improvisations from the clarinetist; the music was loud, fast and overwhelming.

Children danced in front of the players, having a good time.

Elmore was a tap-dance artist. He had been dancing for twelve years and would be eighteen in three weeks. He made a lot more money when he was younger, but he kept performing because he loved it. He didn’t know what he was going to do when he turned eighteen. He wasn’t a very good student and hardly had any true prospects. He tried not to focus on that.

Nearby was a stranger that Elmore had never seen before. He was probably fifty, and dressed for a much colder climate than New Orleans offered. It was definitely strange. Stranger still was the fact that he wasn’t begging or performing or trying to sell anything; instead, he was trying to give money away. Not a sight seen everyday.

Elmore watched him with curiosity and a bit of amusement. Whatever his reason for doing what he was doing, the man wasn’t very good at doing it. For the most part he just held out money at the people passing by but didn’t say anything. Sometimes a pedestrian assumed the man was begging and actually gave him money. The stranger never took it and let it fall to the ground offended, or tossed it aside aggravated and upset.

For a moment Elmore thought it must be some sort of hidden camera prank. But the man kept doing it for far too long without revealing his purpose to those that did or did not take the money.

“You want to tell me what you’re doing?” Elmore finally asked.

The stranger looked Elmore up and down but said nothing.

“This some stunt? Or are you on some sort of vow of poverty spiritual awakening?”

The stranger sighed, annoyed.

“I’m not going anywhere, mister, so you might as well talk.”

Finally the stranger relented. “You want the money or not?”

“I don’t know. What’s the deal? This a trick or something? You steal those?”

“There’s no trick. You take them, you own them. And everything that comes with them. That’s the deal.”

Elmore looked at the coins in the stranger’s hand.

“That even money? I never seen coins looked like that.”

The stranger said nothing.

A procession of jazz musicians made their way along the street, playing a slow and mellow hymn as they went.  A crowd dressed in solemn attire followed. Behind the jazz players, in the middle of the crowd, six men carried a casket.

Elmore turned from the old man to watch the funeral with music. When he turned back, the stranger was gone, but the coins were still there on the ground.

Elmore just stared at them for a long long time.