The Price of Liberty

Americans, even in smaller urban areas, have gotten used to them, there on a street corner, near a shopping mall parking area, at the top of a freeway entry ramp. Panhandlers! The old, scruffy bearded guy in a well-worn and often dirty field jacket, the tired and sad woman with a shopping cart full of stuff, sometimes someone younger with a sign “need gas money” or even “can’t find work.” Churches often have someone, sometimes with family in tow, speaking to the usher in the back of the auditorium, seeking money.

We saw a few on a recent trip through Colorado and New Mexico. In the past, we’ve seen them across these nations and in Europe – even had a beggar try to steal my wallet near the Colosseum in Rome, years ago.

Today, we have a new crop of panhandlers pushing into our faces on our TV screens and monitors. Sharply dressed, carefully groomed, always with flags displayed behind them, and nowadays, with someone beside them using sign language. And usually a name plate or a scroll banner under them: “Governor…” This became particularly obvious in May, at the height of the Lockdown.