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<\/a>Pete\u2019s pants are wrapped in a white plastic bag and sitting in our garage. They are soiled, but I\u2019ll wash them in the morning and return them to him. He pulled them off slowly while sitting on the bench outside the grocery store tonight. I was worried he was going to get arrested, stripping down that way in front of one of the store clerks and a young boy on a bike, who did a double-take when he realized that Pete wasn\u2019t wearing any underwear.<\/p>\nIf the police had come I would have had to intervene. I would have told them it was all my fault that Pete was nude from the waist down, save for his mismatched socks.<\/p>\n
I first saw Pete yesterday, walking away from the Wal-Mart parking lot, grasping a forest green blanket as if he was Superman and his cape was about to blow away. \u00a0He moved hunched over his belly, like he was battling a bitter wind, and I suppose that\u2019s exactly what he has done for much of his adult life.<\/p>\n
I saw him again, today, walking along Highway 395, south of Starbucks. The sun was shining bright but he was still hugging that ratty blanket. \u00a0A new homeless man in town? Or just one I haven\u2019t noticed before? I said a quick prayer for him, but in my rush, kept on driving.<\/p>\n
Then hours later, in the aisle between the deli and the yogurt, he walked past me, his green cape trailing. I turned, touched his shoulder and said, \u201cHey buddy, are you okay?\u201d<\/p>\n
A generous smile pleated his mouth, his dark eyes.<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, yes,\u201d he replied. \u201cThis keeps me warm.\u201d He patted his cape.<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you have a place to stay? Someplace warm to sleep?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes,\u201d he replied. \u201cMy father has a place. I stay there at night but he\u2019s in Mexico right now. I don\u2019 t like to stay there by myself.\u201d<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t think it odd that he preferred being on the streets to staying in his father\u2019s house but I did wonder, briefly, why I didn\u2019t think that strange.<\/p>\n
\u201cI saw you yesterday,\u201d I said. \u201cI was worried about you. I prayed for you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, that\u2019s sweet,\u201d he said. \u201cSo sweet.\u201d<\/p>\n
Shoppers passed behind us, giving me that look, thinking, I imagine, that this man had approached me first, perhaps looking for a handout.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m sorry,\u201d he said, pulling back the blanket. \u201cI had seizures last night and soiled myself.\u201d \u00a0Stale urine saturated the air between us.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou need clean clothes. Do you know about the Agape House?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo,\u201d he said, shaking his head.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s behind Home Depot. Go there tomorrow. They have clothes, food, blankets. They can help you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThank you, thank you,\u201d he said, bowing his head.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m Karen.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cPete,\u201d he said, taking my hand into his.<\/p>\n
\u201cNice to meet you, Pete.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMy family helps me,\u201d he said. \u201cI get a check and they help me but I\u2019m low on funds right now. I could call and get help tomorrow but if you have something. Can you help me out?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI don\u2019t have cash on me,\u201d I said truthfully. \u201cBut we need to get you some clean clothes.\u201d \u00a0My mind raced, trying to think of who I could call at 7:30 p.m. for help.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes. That would be nice. If I could get out of these pants. They\u2019ve been soiled all day. Those seizures.\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at his jeans and noticed his shoes. On the left foot was a hiking boot. On the right foot was a tennis shoe, a tag still attached to it.<\/p>\n
\u201cPete, I have to finish getting the groceries but as soon as I\u2019m done I can go to the store next-door, get you some clean clothes. You\u2019ll have to wait for me. Can you wait for me?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThis is fine,\u201d he said, pulling on the front of his dirty black sweatshirt. \u201cBut\u2026\u201d he looked down at his faded jeans.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll get you some pants,\u201d I said. \u201cBut you have to wait for me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI will,\u201d he said. \u201cOut there.\u201d He pointed to the far east corner of the store.<\/p>\n
\u201cYes, wait for me.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s sweet,\u201d he said. \u201cThat\u2019s very sweet.\u201d<\/p>\n
I grabbed the last few items from the shelves and found the shortest line. Pete was walking down another aisle as I pushed the cart out the door.<\/p>\n
At the discount store next-door, a clerk helped me find Pete a pair of black fleece sweats. \u201cThis are really warm,\u201d she said. For good measure I picked up a pack of cleansing wipes, the kind soldiers in the desert covet.<\/p>\n
I hurried about the task, then went in search of Pete.<\/p>\n
He wasn\u2019t in the parking lot. Not anywhere. I went back to the grocery, past the cereal and candy aisles, the deli and the produce. Cashiers nodded, asked if they could help me find anything. \u00a0I didn\u2019t feel safe enough asking if they\u2019d seen the man in the green Superman cape and soiled pants.<\/p>\n
I went to the car, drove past the discount store, past the bank, and did a loop around and around the grocery store. Still no Pete. The warm fleece sat on the front seat in a white plastic bag. \u00a0Where did he go? I pulled out onto Highway 395, drove slowly, searching the dark corners, the shadows between the alleyways. \u00a0I envisioned a disoriented Pete, looking for me.<\/p>\n
I was tired. It had been a long day of teaching, a hectic trip to Washington and back in the late afternoon. It was going on 8 p.m. and I hadn\u2019t even gotten supper underway. I wanted to go home, curl up, rest, but I kept think of Pete trying to sleep in those soiled pants. I turned off the highway, and called my daughter Shelby. I told her about Pete, about his pants, about how I couldn\u2019t find him.<\/p>\n
\u201cDear Jesus,\u201d she prayed, \u201chelp Mama find this man.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, there he is!\u201d I said, interrupting her Amen. I was crossing back over the highway, headed back to the grocery. Pete was sitting on the bench in the far east corner, just as he promised.<\/p>\n
\u201cHey, Pete!\u201d I said, pulling the car in front of the bench. I rolled down the window and handed him a clean pair of pants and the body wipes.<\/p>\n
\u201cThank you,\u201d Pete said, taking the bag, and nodding again and again, \u201cthank you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIf you give me those jeans, I\u2019ll take them home and wash them and bring them back to you tomorrow,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay,\u201d Pete said. \u201cI\u2019ll pay you. I can do work for you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo need for that,\u201d I said. \u201cBut do you have a place to change?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll just go over here,\u201d Pete said, tilting his head. I thought perhaps there was a restroom outside the store. Or that he would go behind the building, into the darkness.<\/p>\n
But no.<\/p>\n
Pete sat on that bench, untied those mis-matched shoes and wiggled out of those acid-stench jeans. He moved slowly, like Jennifer Grey enjoying the spot light. Whatever modicum of modesty he once possessed has long been lost along with the dignity that independence affords.<\/p>\n
\u201cThese are great,\u201d he said rubbing his one hand over the fleece and handing me the bag with the soiled pants in the other.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019ll wash these and meet you back here tomorrow.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay, thank you.\u201d<\/p>\n
I hope Pete sleeps better tonight than last.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou are starting a revolution,\u201d Miz Shelby said.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cRevolutions always start with the storytellers and artists,\u201d my daughter explained.<\/p>\n
I don\u2019t know if that\u2019s a good thing or not. Too often revolutions only trade one manner of chaos for another. Besides, I\u2019m not sure the homeless need a revolution as much as they just need a place to wash off the stench of despair and desperation.<\/p>\n
Restoring a person\u2019s dignity starts with a hot shower and a set of freshly-laundered clothes.<\/p>\n<\/body><\/html>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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<\/a>Pete\u2019s pants are wrapped in a white plastic bag and sitting in our garage. They are soiled, but I\u2019ll wash them in the morning and return them to him. He pulled them off slowly while sitting on the bench outside the grocery store tonight. I was worried he was going to get arrested, stripping down that way in front of one of the store clerks and a young boy on a bike, who did a double-take when he realized that Pete wasn\u2019t wearing any underwear.<\/p>\n