my thoughts

I'm sure many of you have seen the man that occupies so many of my thoughts. He makes his way up and down University Avenue regularly, almost daily. He seems normal enough: going through life with trials and smiles, looking out for himself, just trying to stay afloat in this busy and hectic society.

Unlike most of us, though, he doesn't have a home.

He carries all of his possessions all of the time wherever he goes. I drive past him in my air-conditioned car with a million cd's, with my snazzy sunglasses and costly clothes, a new pair of shoes every so often. I'm either going to my cush job, the university where I pay thousands to become educated, or my home stocked with food and things that would never be considered "necessities" by most of the world.

Every time I see him, my mind becomes preoccupied with thoughts about him. Where does he go everyday? Where does he sleep, eat, bathe? Where does he come from? How did his wandering homeless life start? When? Why?

He walks from Will's Pit Stop to south of BYU and back everyday. I don't know where he stops...maybe the food and care coalition. But then in the evening, around 3:30pm, he's back near Will's Pit Stop. There's no bus stop or anything there, so I don't know where he sleeps, but around 9, he's no where to be seen. Maybe he sleeps in the grove of trees right there. Why does he walk all the way across Provo everyday to sleep in a grove of trees...maybe? How does he survive the elements? Where does he put his stuff? Does he know anyone around here?

Will once saw him in Burger King shaving. What would it be like to have to go to a fast food joint to freshen up and clean yourself? I have no idea.

I wish I could give him a house and a job. Or at least a meal. I let my inhibitions stop me from dropping off a meal every now and then. I make stupid excuses. What if he's allergic to McDonald's? It's not safe for a young lady to be stopping and talking to homeless men. It's not safe, but inside I know he's harmless. I see other people stop and talk to him. Why can't I do it myself? I see him laugh and smile when some biker decides to stop and engage him in a conversation.

He walks slowly, stopping every so often to take a break. I notice that he's always completely covered, even if it's hot. I've only seen him wear short sleeves twice, and never shorts. What he wears everyday is what I consider to be ski gear: the big poofy pants, indestructible boots, a massive coat. All of his clothes used to be an orange color, but are now mostly brown. His skin is dark and wrinkly due to the sun and weather.

When he reaches Will's Pit Stop in the afternoon, he sits and reads the newspaper or something else. I often see him pacing near his possessions even after walking all day long. He may pull out a box of crackers occasionally. When people honk, he looks up and waves happily and offers a big smile. I've never been courageous enough to honk. What if he thinks I'm making fun of him by honking?

I talk about him often. I think about him even more often. I wish to do something, but I'm afraid of I-don't-know-what. I don't really even know what I could do for him. I talk about my endless material possessions, but they won't really help him. What would he do with a pile of cd's? --nothing. Maybe my car would help, but I can't give away my car. Does he even know how to drive? How old is he anyway? How old was he when he started his journeyings back and forth? Has he been outside of Provo? Was he born here? Does he have any family members alive? He's obviously not a member of the church, otherwise he would be taken care of. He would have sufficient for his needs. Right?

Will listens to my endless questions, and he answers them with patience.

What a hard life to lead. I can't even fathom it. Who will know when he dies? What will happen to his body? If he has a funeral, who will attend? Can I...please?

I know a lot about him, but really I know nothing about him.