Skip to main content

breakfast with Andrew or Geoff

Mansfield has one homeless man that I see on a semi-regular basis.
He doesn't look like he should be homeless.
He looks more like someone I went to highschool with.
Who could really use a shower.

This morning I saw on my way home from getting coffee, and pulled over like I occasionally do.
I didn't have any cash.
So I went next door and got some breakfast instead.
Two sausage egg and cheese bisquits.
And I pulled them out.
And he remembered me.
And we sat on the stoop and ate our breakfasts together.

And introduced himself as Andrew.
Which is probably not his real name.
Because later he told me a different one.
And we jumped right into our stories.

Before getting on to me about what is "safe"....
I don't really think we are called to safe.
But nonetheless I didn't give him my last name or social security # or address or anything crazy like that. (well one thing crazy, and maybe we will talk about that later).

I didn't ask.
But he told me bits about how he got here.
That he used to be a newspaper writer.
And that he has been homeless for 7 years.
And told me that he has a facebook.
I whispered my secret dream of being a writer too.
I asked him a little about how it is and if people are nice to him and if the weather is warm enough.
He sang me a song about his life. Which had a little something for everyone alcohol, Jesus, women and dumpsters.
We laughed.
And not the awkward I'm not sure what to say laughs.
But real true laughs.
And we ate our bisquits.

And as I got up to leave, he thanked me and opened his arms for a hug.
He smelled of cigarettes and sleeping outside.
But I hugged him anyways.
I thanked him for one of the most real conversations I've had in months.

Even if his name really isn't Andrew.

Comments

Sarah said…
You inspire me. I love knowing someone as real and brave as you.
November 24, 2009 at 1:15 PM
Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

different

Someone recently sent me a meme about tattoos. I reminded them that I have over half a dozen, although none in such obvious places as the picture. I thought about it while I washed my hair, and how once my hair was also purple, and what kind of memes could be found about that. And also, my nose was pierced. Other than the first two tattoos, none of these were things I did in my youth. All were in my thirties. Currently my hair is a plain brown in a sensible cut. My tattoos all easily hidden with most clothing and only my ears are pierced. As this decade closes I have made efforts to dress more professionally, drink less, stay on top of the laundry although I still refuse to make my bed and talk at an appropriate volume level. Yet, I only looked back on my purple-haired days with longing rather than regret. See, I used to do those things to be different.   Sometimes I’d feel just a little trapped by my suburban life although perfect, felt a little too predictable. I fel...
Post a Comment
Read more

voice

I remember waking up the day after the election tired and stunned. When I got to work I went downstairs to make copies and make some tea and did not make it back to my classroom until right before the tardy bell rang. I have a large class, full of all kinds of students from all kinds of backgrounds. I had not even thought about how they would respond to the election and that since we begin school so early that I might be the first adult they saw that day.  Immediately an African American on the front row told me that she was disappointed in our country. I teach science, not government and thought that I needed to turn the conversation as quickly as I could safely back to the objectives on the board, but I could not ignore her hurt and the rest of the quiet in the room. I told her that  regardless of what candidate she supported that this country is run by more than one person, that very soon she would be able to vote, that she had a voice. Behind her, a student that also ha...
1 comment
Read more

multiple choice

As I write I am procturing a test ( yes on a Saturday, and no I am not getting paid for it.) The room is silent. The only noises I hear are pencils scratching on papers and pages turning. If I listen closely enough I swear I can hear their brains turning. I have always been a good test-taker. I would still regularly brag about my SAT scores if it wre socially appropriate to do so(or an actual indicator of anything meaningful). There is something comforting about multiple choice. (well as long as you don't have the crappy all of the above or none of the above choices...just the classic A, B, C, D variety). There are parameters. Multiple choice means you have options. The right answer is right in front of you, and all you have to do is find it. Even if you don't actually know which one the right answer is there are usually clues, it can be narrowed down or worked backwards. Even a blind guess is likely to be right 25% of the time. These aren't bad odds. All you have t...
Post a Comment
Read more