Vancouver, B.C. Jan 10--Sentries are expected to endure. They stay at their post through tedium and the cold. And so did he, the man in denim pants, a jacket and a stocking cap, as the day grew dark and the chill intensified. Inside, Tammi and I enjoyed our pasta. Outside, he stamped his feet, shrugged off the cold, and hoped to get some spare change from passers by. His effort didn't appear to be productive, but he endured.
Vancouver, Canada's third largest city and its gateway to the pacific, is an expensive town. The tour guide on our hop-on-hop-off trolley told us that 90 percent of the homes are worth more than $1 million. He stopped the bus in front of one, a well worn and boarded up bungalo whose appearance suggested the family lived below the poverty line. Really? More than a million dollars. Even with Canada's dollar worth only 76 cents American, the reality was sobering. In this economy, there are going to be homeless people.
Along Vancouver's Hastings Street, the poor gather in the afternoon, setting up shop on the sidewalk to sell small items which I might have expected to find at Goodwill. I overheard one young man trying to sell trousers.
Tammi had fond memories of Vancouver's Spaghetti Factory and she wanted to dine there, so we walked from the Time Share on Hornby Street, transiting Gastown and stopping briefly at Steamworks Brewery's tap room before heading to the restaurant. That's where I first saw the Sentry, spare-changing. I was wearing several layers, with a scarf and parts of my body could still sense the cold. How could he possibly stay warm?
Our waiter was Kyle, a cheerful and smart young man who was only too happy to convey to the cook my request an additional dish of chicken dippers, in a doggie bag, with napkins. He rushed the order to make sure it arrived before the Sentry retired for the night. From our vantage point we watched him walk to the curb and present the gift with a warm smile, approach the Sentry with a warm smile, then point to us, watching from our table at the window. The Sentry brightened and waved, and afterward mouthed "thank you" to us, while we waved back and smiled. It was probably 45 minutes before we finished. I had hoped to speak to him before he left, but when we exited the Spaghetti Factory, he was gone. His "shift was over" and another individual with a much heavier coat and a well insulated hat had started his shift. As we exited the restaurant, the new man was not interested in food, just cash. I handed him $5 Canadian, hoping that it would buy him a warm spot to sleep, or a bite to eat, and that he wouldn't simply drink it. Normally I don't like giving money. But the biting cold was bitter and enduring. Under those circumstances, a beggar is earning his keep.
Meals distributed so far: 10
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