Homeless of New York

It’s upstate New York at it’s finest at the moment. The weather is starting to change and most of the leaves have now fallen from the trees. Here in New York we have some of the prettiest colors you will see, from dirty brown to vivid reds, we have them all. The air is crisp and beckons for the snow.

November is comedian at best, enticing you in with the warmth to start then abruptly changing to a type of bitter cold that knows no bounds. With all the colors slowly fading and bringing in another winter we all prepare to dig in for the blast of cold. The seasons have been changing ushering in old man winter late for this area. Where winter comes late, the rains stay longer. Being in a weather belt we get rain, at an average of 37″ a year, and just because it’s raining doesn’t mean that the rains aren’t cold. With every drop of rain we get the more we look forward to the snow. Some of us keep prepared by having firewood chopped and oil tanks full, while others look for blankets and coats to keep them warm.

Yesterday was not unlike any other day, it’s a weekend. I wake up, suffer from an epic hangover, and make my way to the coffee maker. With my head all dizzy from the time spent with old friends and a case of Labatt. I pour my coffee into an over sized ceramic mug, add some milk and go on my way. I sit behind this keyboard and attempt to write a blog post. After some time struggling with ideas I decide that “my fans can wait till tomorrow when I feel better” and move on to another task. Looking at the clock I realizing exactly how late it has gotten.

“Did I really sleep till noon?”, I wonder as the second hand marches on.

“What does the day hold”, I think to myself, knowing that I will be of no use to anyone until a complete recovery happens.

Looking throughout the house I can see the remainder of what had transpired as friends sat and talked. You can almost hear the echo of laughter and tears. Scarcely you can see an ashtray tipped over along side a faded green couch. Underneath the empty bottles that where neatly lined up into three little rows, you can see some paper and a few doodles from a heated debate on directions to some place you had never been.

So, after I had wondered into the kitchen to place empties into there respective homes I found some donuts and had to grab one. After some time had passed I got a call from a friend of mine whom I typically see on weekends, so I decided to go over there.

After many hours of eating pizza, drinking “Mountain Dew”, and playing “Guitar Hero” I was feeling better. Tam was about to get out of work so I gave her a call to come and grab me up at Rich’s house.

While Tam was at work she had gotten us some food. She had gotten a Buffalo chicken sandwich with fries, and had gotten me a mushroom swiss burger for dinner. It was a very nice gesture for her to get us some food before returning home.

Walking out to the car I could start to feel the weather changing, the wind starting to pick up and a moistness in the air. The light from the porch cast out into the yard to give an eerie empty glow only to enforce the idea of getting to the car as fast as possible. Our 98 Plymouth Breeze I love so dearly all warmed up and ready for the ride home.

All along the ride we sat quietly just waiting to get home. We unfortunately needed to stop to pick up a few things before returning to our home. As always we stop at the gas station down the block from our home, nothing special just a typical green and white sign you can find on the east coast. We pull in and immediately start to argue about how much gas to put in. My stand on this is “just tell me and I will pump” or “I start pumping and I don’t stop till you tell me.” As I pump the gas, Tam walks inside to pay and get a pack of smokes.

After finishing pumping I go to join Tam in the gas station, she is at the head of the line paying for our purchase, when I notice a disheveled looking man wearing a pink pullover type hoodie brandishing a hand full of change and a 24oz Budweiser. Thinking nothing of it together we leave the store.

At this point I look over at the man from the gas station, who could not have been much older than about mid 30′s grabbing at some bags and covering up with a blue moving blanket near the pay phone. As I get in the car he wishes us a good night and begins to wave. Better judgment tells me that there is a state run mental health facility not too far away and that he could have easily been released from this place. Judgment isn’t what got me by this fellow, it was the circumstances that he was in and being able to still have a smile on his face. Being only human I got choked up.

When a person sees another person in need, should they not pass judgment and help them, or should they keep going on about their way. I know that the sadness I feel for him does nothing to help him. Inside I wish that I did something to help someone in need. We all some place inside want to help the ones in need, and I failed last night.

Knowing what I know about my home town I think that if he had been, he wouldn’t have made it to where I had seen him. The state facility is about 15 miles away, and no one in their right mind would have strayed that far

I turn to Tam and say “November rain is the worst, it never feels so cold.” The sky was dark but you could see a faint outline of clouds if you looked hard enough.

The car ride back from my friends was nothing out of the ordinary. As we parked the car and headed up the stairs, I thought to myself how grateful I feel to have a warm bed to sleep in tonight, even if we live in a tiny apartment and are just getting by. We are still getting by.

Still thinking about it, I had hoped that the man at the gas station was only waiting for a friend or for a ride and that he had some place to go..for I haven’t seen him since, nor I had I ever seen him there before. Possibly just a drifter, a person that has no real home, but is always finding another place to go or another place to see.

(this story is partly based on the man I had seen last night. I hope that you find a warm place to stay as we all dig in for winter.)

*(Edit)* Soon the man that plays the trumpet on the corner of Main and Front will be here. I always feel sad for him too, he’s an older gentleman brandishing an old beat up case and he plays his his Christmas songs out on the corner of the street for everyone to hear as they go on about their way to do holiday shopping and whatnot. Sometimes when I see him I wish I still knew how to play something so he wouldn’t be alone out there. Perhaps I will one day, be as crazy as a bat.

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