on the 6 train

on the 6 train this afternoon, on my way to becky's school to meet her for lunch:

homeless woman, in a loud voice: "ladies and gentlemen, my husband and i are living at the blah blah shelter and need some money to get back on our feet.  can anyone spare some change?  i sure hope you all have a good day, and thank you."

she walks through the train.

i look down to avoid crazy person eye contact.  my assumption is that homeless people on subway cars are crazy.  particularly ones who command the attention of the whole car and ask for money.

there is a little girl sitting with her dad on the bench across from me.  she is wearing a pink "pirates of the caribbean" tshirt, has a disney princesses sweatshirt, and is wearing disney princesses shoes.  she appears to be 5 or 6.  she shoves her whole arm into her pocket, as little kids do, rummages around, pulls out a quarter, and says "dad, can i?"  he nods, and she stands up and puts the quarter in the homeless woman's bag as she passes by.  it was the tenderest moment, and i couldn't help thinking how much more that quarter must have meant to the girl than it would to me.  and yet she gave it without hesitation.

the only other person to give the woman money is a man missing the top knuckle on the first finger of his right hand.  he drops his book as he gives her the quarter.  "this is all i've got - i'm sorry - it's really all i've got," she says as he gives her the money and picks up his book.

i can't help but wonder if it's a coincidence that the only adult to give her money is missing part of his finger, or if missing part of his finger gives him some better understanding of this woman's pain.  or if i'm reading too much into it.