This morning after I dropped my son off at his grandparents' house, I drove down the icy road to Rice Street where sure enough, the man who lives on the sidewalk by the hardware store, was wrapped up in blankets like a mummy. He was lying on the sidewalk next to a shopping cart heaped full of his belongings. It was 8 degrees Fahrenheit (-13.33 Celsius).
Ten years ago I had the experience of working in social services with drug addicts and I became familiar with the tragedy of poverty and addiction. One thing I learned from the men who often slept outside in our frigid Minnesota winters, is that most of them no longer have toes. It's not something you would think about or probably know if you sleep in a bed in a house.
These are not aliens from another world, they are people like us. They have problems, often mental illness and often they self-medicate and abuse alcohol and drugs and even substances that no one would normally ingest or inject—all to make it through the next hour. There is no thought about tomorrow or next year. How could there be?
Now, ten years later, I suspect most of the men I knew in or out (or in and out) of the program are probably dead. But on the street, there was a man this morning in 8 degree weather who made me remember. God bless him.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I9HWQm5w9Dw
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