On any given day, come the cold weather you can find him sleeping, on the floor, of a building entrance way. When the weather is warmer he sleeps in the gazebo at the park or somewhere outdoors, out of the way of onlookers, gawkers and the cruelest of people who live among us.
He is a slight man in stature, very polite, quiet spoken but his very presence causes people to look away, cross the street and some are so rude as to spit on him. He has no mailing address, no dresser full of clothes, no fridge filled with food or even a washroom that he can call his own.
Several times I have caught him in the dumpster grabbing whatever we have thrown out, food that is still fit for human consumption but not fit for all save but the dumpster divers. He pees in the alley ways of buildings or in the few public washrooms that still allow him in. Never have I seen him leave a mess in the washroom as he always tidies up after himself and yet several places no longer allow him access to a basic human necessity.
I have bought him food and spent time talking with him simply because he is, a human being. He has a story, he had a life that I’m sure looked nothing like the one he presently has. Although I find it incredibly hard to believe that he comes from several generations of single child families, he has told me that he has no family, I can’t help but wonder why he is where he is. Alone, living on the street and seemingly unwanted by almost everyone he encounters. His only claim to fame is his aroma. No one knows where he came from, how he came to be out on the street or why he chooses to stay there.
To the mass public he is a shadow man, someone best gone unseen, yet everyone downtown knows exactly who he is but no one actually knows him. I know only his name, his claim of having no family and I wonder if there is someone who right now is wondering where he is, worried about how he is doing, wishing he’d come home.
My hope is that one day I will earn his trust enough to betray him and let someone who still cares about him know that he is still here, slipping through the streets of downtown, alive.
When you come across someone who lives on the street don’t ask yourself “why would someone live like that” rather ask yourself “what can I do to help”. Not every hand that stretches out is looking for money to feed a habit, some of them are simply reaching out to affirm that they still are part of the human race. Worthy of everything that we, who live indoors, declare that we are entitled to.
We are nearing the “Holiday Season” and I find myself getting frustrated by the whole falicy of the season. People seem to pull out all the stops to be a bit kinder to one another, there is an abundance (outside of the shopping malls) of patience and the “entitled” scramble to bestow all the Christmas trimmings on a “deserving family”. Pity Christmas, well commercialized Christmas, comes but once a year as the shadow people get pushed back into the dark corners for the remainding 11 months of the year.
Until they change Christmas to Gift-mas I will continue to rant for patience, kindness and equality for the other 11 months. To Rick aka “stinky” I pray this is the Christmas that you are welcomed back into the world that has to date shunned you not because it’s the right thing to do given the season but rather because you are one of us, a human being.
