Pbmom's Blog

“Hey!”said one of the set P.A.’s.  “There’s a homeless woman eating a sandwich at the craft service table!”

While other crew members angled to get a look at our unexpected guest, I alone approached, drawn by a mixture of pity and sadness.  She looked so frail, her hair disheveled, bony fingers clutching what was probably the last solid meal she’d enjoyed in days and, as I drew close, she seemed to start, pulling the food possessively close to her chest, and she stared up at me, her eyes a myriad of conflicting emotions: fear, contempt, despair, and defiance.  She was in such a lamentable state that I immediately reached for my wallet, prepared to give her whatever cash I had on hand.

It was then, upon closer scrutiny, that I realized the homeless woman wasn’t eating a sandwich.  She was nibbling a banana scone.  And she wasn’t a homeless woman…