Of course there have been at least ten instances of homeless strangers coming up and praying for me to be able to walk. Some have gone as far as to kneel next to me. I find this odd but it beats the hell out them asking me for money. I have also had several homeless people offer to push me up hills. Once again this wouldn't be so odd but for the fact that I weigh 210 lbs and I can benchpress 315 lbs. I don't think I look like I need help pushing up the hill, but maybe I just have a false self-image. Who knows?
He was quite friendly, and had few foibles unless you count barking at women. He never made any move to even approach them, but when a nice-looking lady went by, he'd start softly yapping, culminating in a series of barks if she ignored him. If she looked at him, he'd start panting or even whining, and if she smiled before turning away (rare, but it happened) he'd stop and blow her a kiss when she wasn't looking.
But I digress.
One day, out of the blue, Norm waved me over as I was on my way to lunch. I went over and greeted him, and without preamble he told me that he wanted to say goodbye, because he wouldn't be seeing me for a while. When I asked why, he replied that he had always had a hankering to see Mount McKinley, and was going to do so.
In Alaska? I asked.
Yup.
Okay, Norm. Good luck! How you getting there?
Oh, walkin', naturally.
Note that up to this point I'd never even seen his legs as he sat there with a blanket pulled over 'em, so I just kept a straight face.
Then he vanished.
Ten months later, on my way to lunch, I heard my name shouted out, and there was Norm. When I welcomed him back and asked how Alaska was, he got very quiet and said "Beautiful." Then he gave me a pebble which, he explained, was from the river below Mount McKinley. I thanked him solemnly and continued on to get lunch.
On my way back, he waved and handed me something without speaking. I nodded and hurried back to the office, already late, without looking. When I got to my desk, I checked it out.
It was a photo of Norm, still kneeling with his blanket, next to a river, holding some stones. Next to him was an enormous wooden sign welcoming all visitors to Mt. McKinley, and in the background, there was the mountain.
I laughed for perhaps ten minutes.
I never saw him again.
He got to know a man named Percy, who would panhandle the street where my father's office was. The conversation (according to my father) follows:
Percy: Hey man, you got any money? I so hungry! Father: Well, I'm on my lunch break. Why don't you come to McDonald's with me? Percy: Oh, no, you don' see. I so hungry. I haven't eaten all day I so hungry! Father: Well, an average McDonald's meal has more than enough calories for a days intake. Come on. Percy: I buy my own food. My own food. Father: Um ... I don't think so. They continue haggling for a while, my dad finally manages to take Percy to McDonalds. Upon leaving the place, Dad sees Percy giving away the food to the other bums on the street. Not so hungry, apparently.
Another great homeless person experience my father had: A bum once walked up to him on the street, said, "I'm not lonely. I've got myself to bother." and walked away.
A few years back, I was sitting at the bus stop bawling my eyes out over something or other - I was a very miserable teenager, but I'm feeling much better now, thanks. A middle-aged man with too many hats came up to me, bummed a cigarette, and said "Don't worry. The more you cry, the less you have to pee."
Sound advice, that.
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