Yesterday I met Dan. He voted for Hillary Clinton. These were his first words to me and my friend,
"I voted for Hillary" he said as we crossed the road at Broadway and Commercial. We were on our way home from work.
"Were you in the States or did you write her name on your ballot?" I looked at my coworker and she smiled. I think we both understood he didn't vote at all. "I just want to get attention, I didn't really vote. I'm sorta drunk, actually." he wiped his nose with his sleeve. "I've been just saying stuff to people to get a reaction." He was a fairly together looking man except for the toque on his head and the bottle of pop in his arm. It was more the way he was holding the bottle of pop, pocketed into his elbow, as if it was a football and he was a running back. Apperantly it was mixed with booze.
We were across the road and my friend had to part with me. My first thought was that I should keep this guy occupied while she walked away. However, it didn't take long to see this wasn't going to be that kind of interaction.
I asked him his name and he was a little excitable. His thoughts seemed to run together, but he was completely coherent and in the moment. The conversation was not very linear from that point on. He sometimes mentioned that he didn't really vote or that his birthday was on Saturday (maybe he'd get some booze or if he's lucky coke). Regardless of the topic, he'd always throw in that he was trying to get some attention.
We were across the road and my friend had to part with me. My first thought was that I should keep this guy occupied while she walked away. However, it didn't take long to see this wasn't going to be that kind of interaction.
I asked him his name and he was a little excitable. His thoughts seemed to run together, but he was completely coherent and in the moment. The conversation was not very linear from that point on. He sometimes mentioned that he didn't really vote or that his birthday was on Saturday (maybe he'd get some booze or if he's lucky coke). Regardless of the topic, he'd always throw in that he was trying to get some attention.
The fog was thick that day and very damp on my person. I was wearing business dress pants, made of next to nothing. Thin enough to let the wind through, the shivering had started in my legs. Now we had been speaking for fifteen minutes. I felt somewhat guilty, complaining in my head about the cold, as he says "So I'm homeless. I'll be forty on Saturday" and mentions his options to celebrate again. As we consolidate our feelings on drug addiction I think about the cold again.
"I didn't really vote for Hillary, I've just been saying that to people" and I wonder, as you the reader may be, if this was going anywhere. and then it does...
"Humans are good, don't listen to that crap." "What crap?" You were thinking it too. He answers, "the crap that people aren't good, cuz they are." I realize the obvious, he means that people are good and nothing more. It was not complicated, but I was somehow completely moved. A guy who had been looking for attention, pocketing a booze bottle in his elbow, with nowhere to live actually felt that things were going to be ok. "Things are going to be ok" he said, that's how I knew his feelings. "but don't vote for Harper again, vote Hillary, or maybe Obama"
I was moved, but I was cold. If I had been talking to a good friend, I would have excused myself by now and been home, in a thick hoodie. I offered my hand to him, because he deserved a congratulations. I said with recognition "I sure am glad to hear people still think it's going to be alright." Our hands raised a little, still clasping, his a little harder than before. They were around the height of our chest, but the hand shake had somehow shifted.
I didn't mind that we were still touching, but we were at the corner of Commercial and Broadway (5pm). I felt somehow strange, picture the promenade in square dancing, this is how our hands were being held. We continued to talk, mostly him, while I nodded. I tried every trick in the book to excuse myself. None of it worked, we were even shifting in a circle, round and round, holding hands. So very close to breaking out in a waltz, I realize he needed attention. He had said so many times. I had been completely moved by this guy and even revived a bit. Yet, I had not heard a word he said. I said "Dan." He said,"You be good" he knew what was coming. "I have to go, so I'm going to give you a hug and then I'm going to go." I was cold, but I would be warm soon, his hands were very clammy as he let go of mine. We hugged. It wasn't too long, or too short. Just long enough for both of us. He wiped his cheek. It was just a tear, but he was crying and so was I.
"I Voted for Hillary" he yelled at a lady with a large hat.
"I didn't really vote for Hillary, I've just been saying that to people" and I wonder, as you the reader may be, if this was going anywhere. and then it does...
"Humans are good, don't listen to that crap." "What crap?" You were thinking it too. He answers, "the crap that people aren't good, cuz they are." I realize the obvious, he means that people are good and nothing more. It was not complicated, but I was somehow completely moved. A guy who had been looking for attention, pocketing a booze bottle in his elbow, with nowhere to live actually felt that things were going to be ok. "Things are going to be ok" he said, that's how I knew his feelings. "but don't vote for Harper again, vote Hillary, or maybe Obama"
I was moved, but I was cold. If I had been talking to a good friend, I would have excused myself by now and been home, in a thick hoodie. I offered my hand to him, because he deserved a congratulations. I said with recognition "I sure am glad to hear people still think it's going to be alright." Our hands raised a little, still clasping, his a little harder than before. They were around the height of our chest, but the hand shake had somehow shifted.
I didn't mind that we were still touching, but we were at the corner of Commercial and Broadway (5pm). I felt somehow strange, picture the promenade in square dancing, this is how our hands were being held. We continued to talk, mostly him, while I nodded. I tried every trick in the book to excuse myself. None of it worked, we were even shifting in a circle, round and round, holding hands. So very close to breaking out in a waltz, I realize he needed attention. He had said so many times. I had been completely moved by this guy and even revived a bit. Yet, I had not heard a word he said. I said "Dan." He said,"You be good" he knew what was coming. "I have to go, so I'm going to give you a hug and then I'm going to go." I was cold, but I would be warm soon, his hands were very clammy as he let go of mine. We hugged. It wasn't too long, or too short. Just long enough for both of us. He wiped his cheek. It was just a tear, but he was crying and so was I.
"I Voted for Hillary" he yelled at a lady with a large hat.
for real? This is so moving Mark! That story is like something out of a chicken soup for the soul book. Very well written too, I might add :)
ReplyDeleteThis was fantastic. I hate being cold but I love making a connection. There could have been a reason you met him, there could have been a reason it was so cold that night...
ReplyDeleteThat is why you are wonderful - you can see beauty in any situation.
what grace... for him to know that the true nature of the human soul is good and full of meaning. for he who lives on the street to know, without a doubt, that there is life and love on every street corner. inspiring to all us to have such a powerful reminder that no matter what life's circumstances, there is always hope and always the invisible thread of connection between us all. ; )
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