Back story (sorry, this is long):
When I was a 19-year-old college student, I got involved in a big buddy/little buddy program, where I was matched with an eight-year-old boy. His story was, sadly, pretty typical. Mom had five children by three or four different men by the time she was 21; he was the only one still living with her (father was not in the picture). She was a serious drug addict, couldn’t hold a job, was frequently evicted, often homeless, in and out of unhealthy relationships, etc. She loved him, but he had very little stability in his life and often not even the basics (food, shelter, electricity). I loved this little boy and saw such potential in him. He had a big heart, an infectious laugh, and was so curious about the world.
Over the five years of our relationship, I saw how life beat him down, how he came to distrust those who were trying to help him (because they took him away from his mom, whom he loved deeply despite everything), and I watched his hope and optimism drain away. At one point, we were talking about what he wanted to be when he grew up, and he said he wanted to work at McDonald’s, because he wanted to buy a car, but he didn’t want to have to clean the toilets. My boys, at that age, still thought anything was possible (inventor, President, astronaut), but this boy didn't even have the capacity to dream big.
I don’t think anyone in his world had a full-time, stable job. And he didn’t know the value of a dollar, because money came sporadically and went fast, as did everything (food, homes, people). If his mom scraped enough money together to buy him a Christmas present, the next time I saw him, it was in the pawn shop. There was absolutely no correlation in his world between hard work and a better life--he simply hadn’t seen any examples of this.
I tried to show him there were other paths, but I could tell he didn’t identify with me (and rightfully so, little white girl from the suburbs whose parents were paying for college). And so I just focused on spending time together and having fun, trying to give him some relief in what seemed like a stressful and somewhat dreary life. I took him to our cabin, on his first boat ride, ice skating for the first time, we flew kites, went on picnics, etc. Looking back I don’t know why I didn’t try harder to find role models for him or why I wasn’t more resourceful in getting him help, but there you have it.
When he was 13, they moved out of state and he called me a few times after that, but we lost touch (they never kept a phone or stayed at an address for long).
Fast forward 15 years, and he reaches out to me via Facebook. Predictably, his life was pretty messy: two kids by different women (wasn’t still with either), couldn’t hold down a job, dropped out of high school (I think he got his GED), admitted to a problem with pot (hopefully nothing stronger, but I’m not sure he’d tell me). I was just really grateful that he wasn’t dead or in jail. Over the past three years we’ve had some meaningful exchanges by e-mail, talking about memories of each other and how much it mattered to him that I was there for him and how much I learned from him. He keeps making fresh starts...starting a new job, saying he’s going to start school, etc. but it never seems to amount to much.
Last night I got an urgent message from him that he needed help, that he and his girlfriend had moved to another state and had found an apartment, but hadn’t been able to scrape together the deposit and were living in their car and they had to have the deposit in by close of business or would lose the apartment and I was their last hope and they’d pay me back and he has a job lined up but they wouldn’t hire him without a permanent address and they had some loan money coming but it wouldn’t be there for 30 days... At first my heart sank and I thought “here we go.” But then I reminded myself that we’ve been in touch for three years and not once has he asked me for money. And even though the sob story sounds like a scam, this really is what his life is like. Without my even asking, he gave me the name of the apartment manager and the address and phone number and suggested I pay them directly.
So I did, and it was only $250, but I’m left with this sick feeling in my stomach. Not because of the money, but because I so badly want to help him, and I don’t know how. I know he has debts, because he’s talked about needing to dig himself out of a hole, and I hate to say it, but I’m not optimistic that he’ll be able to. It’s so hard to get ahead when you’re so far behind. Not that he doesn’t want to, but I’m just not sure he has the skills. The skills to earn decent money, to delay gratification, to put together a plan and stick to it. And I don’t want to insert myself where I’m not wanted, and where it’s not my business, but I keep thinking of that little boy, and how much I loved him (and still do), and how goddamn unfair life is and how he really didn’t stand a chance and it’s breaking my heart.
And ironically, yesterday was also the day I get my annual bonus. Before taxes, and even while being out on some unpaid FMLA this year, my bonus would take someone earning minimum wage two-and-a-half years to earn. It's just seems so unfair.
So...all of you in your infinite wisdom, what can I do? I don’t want to enable him, but if there’s any way I can help him, I want to. What would you do if you were me?