Conscious Kindness

     When I lived in the Panhandle District, I would occasionally wonder to myself from whence the name came from. It is actually a skinny strip of land at the end of San Francisco's spectacular Golden Gate Park, like a handle on a skillet or big pan. But with so many down and out, there is a good bit of panhandling. In fact, it sometimes seems overwhelming, especially when, on any given day, I might be asked for money over a dozen times. I noticed that after 9/11, it became especially grim, as there was a scary economic downturn that accompanied all the other chaos.  So I developed a system of my own: I always keep change in the little pocket of my driver's side door handle. And I prioritize giving it to moms with kids, children, and amputees- anyone who really seems in need of help right now. When I've been driving an author around on tour or out-of-town visitors, they have been startled when I mutter, "Oh, an amputee; let me see what I have on me." I explain my seeming rudeness by explaining that this is my personalized system for giving to panhandlers, and that I was almost an amputee. A few years back, I was hit and run by a drunk driver, which terribly injured my leg. My doctor suggested amputating- but I managed to talk him out of that idea. I had to learn to walk again. It took a long time and caused a lot of pain. So I always think, "That could have been me!" and I want to help. Many a vet who served their country come back without a limb. This really is the least I can do and wanting to do more is one of the reasons behind this book.