A hand-up or a handout?

COLUMBUS

I was walking into the grocery store the other day when a beat-up SUV pulled alongside the curb, facing the wrong way into traffic.

“Sir! Sir!” a disheveled woman called in my direction, looking and sounding desperate. You have to be pretty desperate to shout “sir” at a lowly newspaper reporter.

I turned and walked over to find out what she wanted, thinking she might be lost and need directions.

“Do you go to a church?” she asked. Then, hearing my affirmative response, she continued, “Oh, thank God.”

She asked where I attended, and I told her. And then she launched into a lengthy narrative of the hard times she had faced in recent days.

A family member was killed by a drunken driver. She had spent the last week in a local hospital. She was out of money and needed to go get her kids.

And her beat-up SUV was out of gas.

“Is there anything you can do to help me?” she asked.

Gas pumps nearby

Lucky for her, the grocery store had some gas pumps nearby.

“Drive over to those pumps,” I told her, “And I’ll fill up your tank.”

“I don’t have time for that,” she responded, getting snippy. “I just want money.”

I don’t usually carry much cash with me on a daily basis. On a good day, I might have a few bucks for the vending machine. Most others, my wallet has plastic but not paper.

I repeated my offer.

Just pull over to those pumps, I said.

It’s right there, I motioned.

I’ll put gas in your empty tank, I nearly begged.

She replied by taking a swig from a bottle of pop (or soda, depending on where you live) and driving off in a huff, with no cash from me and no fuel for her vehicle.

I assume she won’t be visiting my church anytime soon.

If you live in Ohio’s capital city or any other city, you’ve probably been asked for money by someone out on the street, down on their luck.

If I have it, I fork it over, knowing full well that it may be spent on unhealthy substances or for what working Ohioans might call frivolity.

When I don’t have cash on hand, I try to offer an alternative. A homeless guy out in front of the Statehouse a couple of months back, who had a lengthy story about cancer and a late-night chemotherapy session, walked away with my McRib sandwich.

I’m not bragging or saying you should do the same. There are good reasons not to toss money around to people you meet on the street. There are equally good reasons for passing a dollar or two when you can.

But it’s frustrating and heartbreaking to see so many people who don’t have the resources to cover their basic needs — and so many people who, even when you offer them help to deal with their current circumstances, still aren’t willing or able to fend responsibly for themselves.

STATEHOUSE DEBATE

There’s a comparable debate under way at the Statehouse, as Gov. John Kasich and Republican and Democratic lawmakers determine how to structure assistance programs to better help those who are able to help themselves.

Some people will take advantage of the resulting opportunities to exit the welfare rolls.

Some people will take advantage of the system.

And some will drive off in a huff, chugging Mountain Dew, even when you try to fill their gas tanks.

Marc Kovac is The Vindicator’s Statehouse correspondent. Email him at mkovac@dixcom.com