Loitering

A friend sent me the following definition -- a wee bit cynical, perhaps -- coining a new word:

Coronacoaster (noun): the ups and downs of a pandemic. One day you're loving your bubble, working out, baking banana bread, and going for long walks; and then you're crying, drinking gin for breakfast, and missing people you don't even like. 

Yes, indeed, although I can speak only for myself, the past few months haven't always been easy or enjoyable. Being forced to spend so much time at home, away from life's usual activities, is something I'll never really get used to. I've sometimes been accused of being a homebody, but this is ridiculous. Unable to get together with many of our friends, unable to enjoy those group dinners at restaurants, unable to travel, unable to see family...we're all just hanging out, not doing much of anything. What they used to call loitering has become the new normal. 

Of course, if you've been around a while, you'll remember that loitering was often prosecuted as a criminal act. I recall as a kid, back in the fifties, occasionally hearing about someone being arrested for loitering. We lived in an affluent New York suburb, so I suppose our town's finest did not look kindly on anyone just hanging around too long with no obvious purpose. Loitering, it seems, was considered the likely prelude to other, more serious crimes. 

Although those arrested in our town were never locals, I doubt if many were planning major crimes. Most were simply down on their luck -- men we then, unkindly, called "bums" -- and probably made their way to our town in the hope that someone might give them some work, some food, or a dollar or two. I can remember my mom making a nice, thick sandwich for the occasional wanderer who came to the door asking for food. This calls to mind the Gospel parable of vineyard workers who just hung out all day (loitered?) in the marketplace hoping to be hired [Mt 20:1016].

Serious Team Loitering

And remember the door-to-door salesmen -- the Fuller Brush man and others who walked from house to house looking for business? These were honest, hard-working men, but what a difficult way to earn a living! Mom always bought something from them. It might not have been very much, but it was something. They certainly weren't loitering, but today they've been banned in many communities -- a sign of the more dangerous and self-centered times in which we live.

The "Fuller Brush Man"

Back then, and perhaps still today, the criminality of loitering was dependent on one's position in the community. I suspect any of our town's notable citizens could have loitered with impunity whenever and however long they desired without fear of arrest. Few probably did so because they were too busy doing whatever it took to make the money that enabled them to live in our town. Yes, they were relatively wealthy, but most were good, hard-working, and generous people, who willingly supported many fine charities. But writing a check is one thing, while getting up close and personal with those in need is something else entirely. I think too many of our neighbors missed out on that aspect of our human condition.

Is loitering still considered a crime today? I really don't know, but I doubt if many people are arrested for just hanging out. Ok, maybe in Palm Beach, or apparently in Morristown, NJ (see below photo). But in most cities the police are probably far too busy dealing with murders, robberies, rapes, looting, arson, and other serious crimes to worry about loitering.

No Loitering in Morristown, NJ

I actually hope law enforcement has back-burnered loitering because it’s become one of my favorite activities since I retired. Maddie (our 12-year-old Bichon Frise) and I loiter a lot here in The Villages, but we do so innocently, without nefarious purpose. It seems, too, that the amount of time this sweet dog spends loitering is directly proportional to her age, another thing she and I have in common. Maddie’s loitering, of course, is purposeful. She must sniff and decipher the odors that attack her remarkable sense of smell. Because these attacks are constant, we don’t move very quickly and could easily be accused of loitering. 

Maddie, Ready for Our Morning Loiter

Unlike Maddie, though, I learn very little by sniffing, so I simply wait for her as patiently as possible. But I also use this time to examine the steady stream of thoughts that attack my brain as I observe the tiny piece of God's universe that surrounds us as we walk and loiter. One problem, though. Because we’re out and about, I’m unable to write down these reflections and by the time we get home, I’ve often forgotten them. Another sad consequence of aging.

Lately, however, I’ve been spending a lot of time in waiting rooms while Diane undergoes rehab or dental work. (Because of her still recovering shoulder, she is unable to drive, so I've become her personal chauffer.) In fact, at the moment I'm loitering in the waiting room of her rehab facility. With my iPad resting on my lap, I am able to capture and reflect on the thoughts that manage to slip past my defenses.

This leads to another question. Can one loiter while seated, or is loitering strictly a standing around activity? I suppose it depends on the venue. Loitering in a bank is probably a stand-up offence. Unlike hotel lobbies, bank lobbies usually don't have chairs and sofas scattered about. Bankers, concerned about potential robberies, probably wouldn't want to make loitering (aka, casing the joint) too comfortable. 

Bus stations are different. I recall, back in 1963, sitting in a near empty Port Authority bus terminal in Manhattan. On that cold, Sunday afternoon in February, I waited impatiently for a bus to take me back to Washington, D.C. A freshman at Georgetown U., I'd been invited to spend a weekend with a young lady and her family at their ritzy, Central Park West apartment. (She went to Vassar, probably out of my league.) I think our brief relationship came to a screeching halt when I said I'd have to take the bus since I didn't have enough cash to pay for the Eastern Airlines shuttle flight.

Anyway, as I sat in the terminal waiting, I witnessed a man being arrested for what I think was loitering. Of indeterminate age, he was stretched out on the next bench, and would occasionally waken to take a sip from a bottle cleverly disguised as a paper bag. He didn't bother me at all, because when I'd arrived he actually sat up, said, "How ya doin', kid?", and offered me a swig out of the bag. Naturally, I declined but thanked him for his offer. A nice man living a troubled life. 

Waking Up the Homeless

After about an hour, just as they announced my bus was ready for boarding, two large Port Authority policemen approached the man, gently lifted him up by his arms, and literally carried him off, telling him he was under arrest. At first it saddened me because this generous man seemed so harmless, so tired, and so comfortable dozing on his bench. But later I realized they had likely taken him to a cell where he could sleep it off, a far better and safer outcome than just throwing him out into the cold. 

We live in a strange world, one so very different from the world in which I came of age. I think I prefer those earlier years when things at least appeared to be more clearly defined. Today we don't seem to know what to do about the homeless, the mentally ill, the addicted, and the chronically unemployed. No human society, including our own, past and present, is perfect. Maybe we need to turn to the Gospel and let God show us how to love the least of his brothers and sisters in ways that lift them up from the condition in which the world has left them.