It’s time again for the Untied Way

Contrary to rumors, the gleaming Untied Way tower remains a landmark on the San Francisco skyline. No workers have been fired; there have been no boardroom putsches. The infrastructure remains intact; the core of volunteers is committed to its mission. There is still free coffee in the library.

As you know, the Untied Way has no celebrity endorsers, no gala fetes honoring wealthy donors, no glossy newsletters with a convenient envelope inside. The Untied Way raises no money; it depends entirely on our field representatives. Technically speaking, it doesn’t have a tower, a boardroom or coffee.

But the work goes on.

Some people confuse us with the United Way. We have sometimes gotten letters complaining that we were slanderously misrepresenting the United Way. We also got a letter from the United Way saying that it approves of the Untied Way. So, big-charity cred, no big-charity overhead.

What is the Untied Way? The word has not reached everyone; some people are sincerely confused. But the business model is easy to learn and easy to understand.

An Untied Way volunteer, who has achieved this lofty position merely by smiling and nodding and blinking uneasily, goes to the ATM of his or her choice. I would suggest an ATM that doesn’t tack on extra fees, but again, the choice is not mine. Do as you will.

From this ATM, take out a lot of $20 bills. Take as many as you feel comfortable with, and then take a little more. It’s good if you feel a twinge; that means you’re doing it right.

Then you take the bills to wherever there are people asking for money. Sadly, these people are easy to find. If you don’t have any in your hometown, San Francisco has plenty. Make a day of it! Visit Fisherman’s Wharf and Coit Tower, and then take a walk around the Tenderloin.

Look closely. What is that? Oh, human misery. Bummer.

And then you pass out your $20 bills. I know everything is more expensive these days, but $20 is still a lot of money for a destitute person. You can choose to give more if you like. Again, it’s up to you. You are the keeper of the Untied Way flame.

When you give your clients a $20 bill, try to look them in the eyes. Ask them how they’re doing. Introduce yourself by name. Do anything to acknowledge your shared humanity.

Now, this interaction may not go well at all. Sometimes you will be met by growls and whimpers. People might even curse you. Sometimes, though, you might be met with a level of gratitude that you find embarrassing. If they God bless you, God bless them right back. What can hurt?

The reaction is not important. You’re not doing this because you want people to think you’re a great person. You’re not doing this to get your name on a plaque or a scroll or a bench. No one’s watching. Experience the experience.

Some will argue, because they always do, that Untied Way clients often spend the money on cheap booze or dubious heroin. They will just use it to feed their addiction, and they will be worse off than before. And of course that’s true — not for everyone you meet, but for some of them.

That’s OK too. You’re not there to save them; you’re there to succor them. At the Untied Way, we say that the clients “use the money for self-identified areas of need.”

You’re not solving the homeless problem; you are supporting individual homeless (or near-homeless) people. Will it stop them from behaving badly? Money doesn’t stop people from behaving badly; never has. But it might get them a warm blanket or a night in a flophouse or a generous portion of fried chicken. At the very least, it will give them comfort.

Everyone who asks you for money needs money; it’s not a scam. So give money and give kindness; that’s the Untied Way.

You may have feelings of disgust or fear. You may think the blasted landscape of the inner city is too alien. But it’s not; it’s a human landscape, and you’re a human being. What you’re seeing is just a distressed version of where you’re living now.

Walking in those neighborhoods may be something you avoid. But that person in the long coat lurking near the liquor store could be you. No reason why a couple of disasters — three, maybe — couldn’t send you out on the streets, looking for anything that will help you survive. So it’s you giving money to could-have-been-you. Be generous; that person in the mirror needs love too.

Looks pretty nice out. You have an hour. You know where your ATM is. Untie yourself.