I caught up with “David” the homeless man a few days ago. He was seated at a sheltered bus stop near Dog Alley, reading a large book. I couldn’t see the title. The bus stop faces the morning sun, so it is warmer there and offers better light for reading.
He’d asked weeks ago, “If you want to do something for me, get me a King James version of the Bible.” I’m not a religious person, but I eventually found a $5 King James at Bookman’s. I told I’d bring it to him the next time our paths crossed. He was leaving soon to take a shower, where I didn’t ask. So it wasn’t until the next day that I delivered.
He was turning into Dog Alley wearing a clean jacket and shouldering a medium-sized backpack. I parked my car in a nearby lot and walked over to him with the Bible inside a paper sack.
“Here it is,” I said handing it to him, relieved my mission had finally ended. “Thank you,” he replied. “God bless.” And that was it.
I’m drawn to street people, I don’t know why. But I think it has something to do with this. We are all tied up together in this precarious thing called life, and by the merest of chance, birth or by circumstance, some of us end up on the street and some of us don’t. If you do not believe that, you are too arrogant to take up space on this planet.