The overlooked man on the bench

WESTLAKE PARK, Sunday, Jan 15

The man on the bench seemed oblivous to the speakers and the crowd at the rally for health care. But then most were oblivious to him, as well.  Some were aware of him enough to stand at the far end of his bench as they tried for a better view. One woman, however, slipped a greenback or two into his slipper, which his blanket didn't cover. Another, a free-lance photographer documented his presence and commented on how others didn't seem to see him. And I slipped a sack lunch into the open part of his shelter near his head, trying not to disturb his "privacy."

I was behind on my meal mission, so on this Sunday morning I quickly prepared eight sandwiches of  Columbus Herb Roasted Turkey Breast slices. Two sandwiches went into each double-bagged paper sacks, along with two Babybel cheese rounds and two Nature's Bakery fig bar packages, with two napkins. Most of the sandwiches were dressed with Miracle Whip, but a few had Best Foods Mayonnaise. Normally I don't like mayo, but I was short of the Miracle Whip; I tasted the mayo, and discovered it was king of tangy. Time to head to the rally, with the lunches stuffed in my backpack and Centennian bobbing along behind.

Walgreens: At Pine and Broadway there was the same fellow I've seen for years, standing outside Walgreen's with his hat to collect any spare change. I only talked to him once over the years, on a particularly cold day when I think I recall making a donation for anyone who would brave such weather for a handout. Today I made eye contact as I crossed the street, because I knew we would have something to discuss again. This time he was really bundled up, so he wasn't cold, he said. And he wasn't hungry, because someone had just given him a burrito. "I'll catch you next time," I said, and walked on.

6th and Pine: A small man was bent under the load of an enormous backpack, bundled for the weather, his head covered with a stocking cap. I asked him where he's headed. To the library. Homless? Yes. Hungry? Yes. I dug out the first of the lunches and we walked a bit. He explained he stays warm at night with the help of mummy bags he carries in his backpack. (They can be good to 40 below.)  He opened a sandwich and tried to enjoy it, while his nose hung on to a pendulous drip of snot. I told him there were napkins in the sack. He said his name is Robert. That's my name, I said, and we shook hands. He's been living on the streets for four years and survives by spare changing at 6th and Pine.

Westlake Park: On the edge of the rally crowd a small man with a backpack and a Hispanic accent stopped to look into a refuse bin. No question that he wanted food. He was one of the lucky ones. Although he lives on the street, he was on his way to go fishing in Alaska. Lunch no. 2.

Man on the bench:  He was right at the boundary of the crowd; some people squeezed past for a better view. Some stood on the far edge of the bench. The blanket wasn't large enough to cover his entire body, so his legs stuck out. Instead of shoes he wore slippers. (Mental note: Carry spare shoes and socks next time.) He was doing something under the blanket, but I couldn't tell what -- scratching? Tugging on clothing to find a warmer setting? After watching for several minutes, I tucked the lunch in an opening, hoping that, when he arose, he would find it. Lunch no. 3.

5th and Pike: She was sitting with her back to the light standard, on some sort of wheeled contraption, with a rough cardboard sign asking for food. I pulled out the last lunch and spoke with her. She had come to Seattle from Oregon to find work, got hit by a car, and needs a hip replacement. At least she has health care, but she also needs shelter. Her nearest relatives are in Oregon. She seemed to be shivering. She is overweight, which must add to her difficulties in walking.


Walgreens, again: The panhandler was still standing there. I was heading to the drug store to pick up envelopes before heading home, made eye contact and waved. When I came out I gave him a crisp new dollar bill that Nielsen had included in a mailing for a media survey on my use of TV and radio. (I told Nielsen I don't have a TV any more; I get my news and entertainment via the Internet.) I spoke with the panhandler for a moment before heading out. He said his name was Ken. That's my brother's name, I said.

Delivery route for four sack lunches on Jan 15, day of Affordable Care Act rally.

Meals distributed so far: 14.

Ubuntu,