> ## Content Index > Fetch the complete content index at: https://www.smdp.com/llms.txt > Use this file to discover other available public pages before exploring further. # Giving to down and out comes with no guarantees - URL: https://www.smdp.com/giving-to-down-and-out-comes-with-no-guarantees/ - Published: 2004-10-22T15:00:00.000Z - Updated: 2026-10-25T01:11:15.000Z - Author: Guest Author - Tags: Opinion, Santa Monica, #archive-import, Homeless *By KELLY HAYES-RAITT* “I think people deserve to have a good meal once before they die,” said Robert Ruelas, defending his unorthodox decision to invite a “pretty torn up” homeless man into the upscale Broadway Deli for lunch. Ruelas knows. He’s been pretty torn up himself. While homeless, he used to pass the tony restaurant, eyeing the outdoor diners’ meals. Ruelas is not a sympathetic character and he admits he had no sympathy for others for most of is life. The 65-year-old has been in jail more than out since he was 9. “It was never my nature to help someone,” he said. “Where I grew up, it’s all shooting, and you live by an oath that you only look out for the homies... Everybody else doesn’t count. I started getting into organized crime, hijacking trucks, doing robberies, then bank robberies. I went to the federal joint. That’s what I’ve been doing all my life. “I got out (of jail) and I didn’t have nothing, I was homeless. They give you money at the gate, then you run out. I was living in a hotel. My parole officer thought I’d end up back in the penitentiary. He thought I would never change my life.” As I sit listening to this hardened man, I wonder why I am not afraid. Looking straight at me, he said that not too long ago, he would have stolen my computer from under me. I wonder which of us is marveling more at how much he’s changed — and at what finally prompted it after the thousands of tax dollars spent on him. “My friend told me to go to St. Joseph’s Center,” Ruelas said. “They showed me how to do things the right way. I was messing up, I was going back to South Central and seeing my home-boys. (My St. Joseph’s caseworker) kept telling me to cut LA loose, get a job, keep busy. She put me in a shelter, and was always there for me. “I started changing when she was talking to me. I had problems, (but) St. Joseph’s kept giving me courage. I started volunteering at PATH (People Assisting the Homeless), cleaning the kitchen, running errands, like a handy-person. I graduated from Turning Point, and St. Joseph Center got me (into) a place in Redondo, where I pay my own rent.” St. Joseph’s Center has 11 programs to help homeless and low-income families, providing a continuum of care for people who are at risk of becoming homeless and for those climbing their way out. St. Joseph’s participates in the Westside Shelter and Hunger Coalition, which networks several social service agencies to provide a wider variety of programs with less duplication. “After the first year, I can see a change in me that I never thought I’d see,” Ruelas said, shaking his head. “I never thought it would happen in a thousand years that I would feel sorry for anybody, especially a homeless person, that’s why I know I’m changing. I started getting that little feeling in my body that I never had.” I trace the heavy blue tattoos on Ruelas’ forearms. “That one’s Broadway — my gang nickname,” he said. “I eat at the Broadway Deli, I know mostly everybody there,” he added, recalling the day of his impulsive invitation. “I went outside to smoke a cigarette, and this old dude comes walking up and is looking in. He tells me they won’t let (him) in to buy a sandwich, he says, ‘Cause the way I am, they don’t want me in there, I’m homeless…’ “I don’t know (how), it just came out of my mouth. I told the guy, ‘Come on in and I’ll get you something to eat.’ When we went in a lot of people were looking at us. “The lady that works the (counter) says ‘What are you doing?’ I told them to give him anything he wants and I’ll pay for it. “There was a lady (sitting) next to me. She tells me, ‘I’ve never seen anybody do what you did. Most people give money, but you brought him into this place.’ I said it just came up that way, I didn’t want nothing out of it. “Turns out, the lady owns her own restaurant, and invites me to lunch.” Ruelas asks me if I’d ever done anything like that, and I recount an almost forgotten memory when I was 18 and newly living alone. My boss asked me to put up a new employee with nowhere to sleep. “She just has nowhere to go, Kelly,” he said. The woman disappeared from my couch early the next morning, stealing a loaf of homemade bread. I’d felt ripped off, taken advantage of. It forced me to contemplate the complicated difference between giving with expectations and without, about how challenging it is to give when we have no control over the outcome, about how much faith and courage it takes to give with no guarantee. “I feel real good,” Ruelas said of his gesture. “The first thing that came into my mind after I talked with (the restaurant owner) was St. Joseph’s. My caseworker guaranteed I would change, and I did. At that moment, I was changing.” (Kelly Hayes-Raitt is a political consultant specializing in public relations and community organizing campaigns. She consults with the Westside Shelter and Hunger Coalition. She (310) 474- 5545 or www.CommunityCampaigns.com). *Originally published in the Santa Monica Daily Press print edition on October 22, 2004.* [Read the original PDF.](https://s3.us-east-1.amazonaws.com/smdp%5Fbackissues/102204.pdf?ref=smdp.com)