Street people have names. The other day, I was walking downtown, and a boy was sitting on the sidewalk, his cap on the ground in front of him, his eyes staring blankly ahead. I stopped and said hi. We shared some bread and brie and cantaloupe I had brought for a picnic. His name is Chad, and, though I thought he was quite young, he was in his early 20s. It was his second time being homeless he said, and this time, it had only been a few weeks. He was hopeful hed be able to complete his high school equivalency test, but he needed to be able to write a short essay in 15 minutes. He wasnt very good at writing English. Neither was he very good at Math. I asked him if he had worked at places, and he told me that hed worked in construction, and all kinds of manual jobs. Hed been clean for a bit over a year. What struck me most about Chad was how thankful he was for a simple chat and how kind he was. He had hope. I found that sad and touching and beautiful at the same time. Now, I could be cynical and question his motives. I could think well, he has created his own problems or issues. And maybe he has. But let someone else who hasnt faced hard times throw stones. Weve all been through hard times at one point or another. And thats what I told him. Not to give up hope.
Posted on: Tue, 29 Jul 2014 15:28:35 +0000
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