Probably Not What My Parents Meant

As a kid, I had no friends. Far to often for my enjoyment my parents would give me big speeches about how I needed to have friends. This was talked about a lot, and it made me feel like shit, because I didn't feel in control of the ability to make/keep/have friends. It apparently comes naturally to some kids. Not me. Even as an adult, it still doesn't come naturally. Now I'm pretty good at it, but it takes an inappropriate amount of effort and thinking. I am fascinated by people that make and keep friends without blinking an eye.

When my father was in San Francisco last year, he gave me a backpack he got from his company that he didn't need anymore. This was great, because I'd wanted one for years. At first I was overwhelmed by the choices, and then I wasn't in a position to buy one. So for someone else to take the decision-making away from me by just giving me one was perfect. Sometimes Tim, you really can just make it work. Now when I have to take my laptop somewhere, I'm not wrapping it in the towel I use after showers and sliding the whole thing in a tote bag. It's great. I love it. I thought seriously about sending my father a formal thank you card in the mail.

Then he came back to San Francisco this year. He had another extra backpack. Same as the first, but in another color. I told him I didn't need it. He said it was okay. I told him I might be tempted to give it to someone else. He said it was okay. So I started with my brother, since he'd shown interest in the first one. Golden Boy wasn't interested.

Every day on the way to work I walk past a homeless guy who stands on the corner near my house and has a big black dog. The dog is so mellow, that sometimes the homeless guy has to go somewhere, and he leaves the dog on the corner, and it just stays there. Sometimes the homeless guy ... receives guests on his corner.

I decided to see if this homeless guy was interested in the backpack. Then I realized saying, "Hey, you're homeless; want a used backpack?" probably wouldn't go over too well. I don't know why this guy is homeless. Usually most homeless people have obvious mental problems and it's easy to assume they're too nutty to hold down a job that would afford rent.

This guy doesn't seem crazy at all. Which is actually really impressive, when you think about it. I mean, screws were falling out of my head left and right when I was just contemplating becoming homeless!

So I spent a few days letting it roll around my head. How do you ask if someone wants something without implying you think because of their circumstances, they might need it? Finally I came up with something I thought might not be too insulting. So last Monday when I saw him, as I waited for the traffic light to turn green, I tossed out, "Hey, I have an extra backpack. Do you know anyone who could use one?" He immediately responded with, "Sure. We can always use extra backpacks."

Whew. Not only did he get my point (that thankfully didn't come out too clunky), but he responded in kind. Relief! So I said, "Okay. Tomorrow?" as in, you'll be here tomorrow, and I'll bring the backpack. He nodded.

The next day I brought the backpack and he wasn't there. So I hauled it to work. The next morning, when I saw him, I gave him a look like, "what happened?!" and he said he was sorry, but it was raining, and gestured at the dog. Okay, that makes sense. So I told him the backpack was at work, but if he could be in the area that evening, between 5:30 and 6, I could bring it by then. He agreed.

I hauled the backpack on the way home from work. He wasn't there. I was sweaty and frustrated and pissed. With him, for not living up to his obligations, and with myself, for assuming a homeless person would have a watch and be able to honor commitments. I thought about it all day, trying to see things from his perspective. Maybe I was making assumptions. Maybe there is a line in his eyes, between his people and other, non-homeless people. Maybe his people make plans in a more vague way, like "tomorrow" or "next week."

Maybe whatever it is that holds him back from being ... homeful, reared its' head in making regular plans, and it was just too much for him. I still wanted to give him the backpack. I didn't want to carry it to work yet again. The decision I made was to take a day off from making arrangements, and then just spring it on him. Maybe that would work better. The next morning as soon as he saw me, he started apologizing. "Sorry about yesterday; I had to meet with the police..." I waived him off and told him it was no problem, as if my plans often fall through due to police meetings.

The following morning, I brought the backpack with me. I guess the homeless guy's dog had been following our interactions, because it shoved its face in my hand and wagged as soon as I walked by. The guy was there, and I gave him the backpack finally. He thanked me. He stuck out his hand, and then ... kind of pulled it back an inch or two. The only thing I could think of was that he thought maybe I wouldn't want to touch him. I'm prissy, and I'm sure it shines through. But there's Dial soap at work, and I grabbed his hand before he could pull it back any farther.

Since then, every morning the dog wags each time I walk by, and the guy says hello to me, and we chat if the traffic light is red. I guess I'm kind of friends with a homeless guy now.