{"id":1525,"date":"2014-12-26T12:57:37","date_gmt":"2014-12-26T17:57:37","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/admin.patheos.com\/blogs\/tomzampino\/?p=1525"},"modified":"2015-12-24T15:28:30","modified_gmt":"2015-12-24T20:28:30","slug":"douglas-to-dust-revisted","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/tomzampino\/2014\/12\/douglas-to-dust-revisted\/","title":{"rendered":"Douglas-to-Dust, Revisited"},"content":{"rendered":"<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC \"-\/\/W3C\/\/DTD HTML 4.0 Transitional\/\/EN\" \"http:\/\/www.w3.org\/TR\/REC-html40\/loose.dtd\">\n<html><head><meta http-equiv=\"content-type\" content=\"text\/html; charset=utf-8\"><meta http-equiv=\"content-type\" content=\"text\/html; charset=utf-8\"><\/head><body><p><a href=\"https:\/\/wp-media.patheos.com\/blogs\/sites\/454\/2014\/12\/wanderer-814222__180.jpg\" class=\" decorated-link\" target=\"_blank\"><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"alignnone size-full wp-image-4617\" src=\"https:\/\/wp-media.patheos.com\/blogs\/sites\/454\/2014\/12\/wanderer-814222__180.jpg\" alt=\"wanderer-814222__180\" width=\"270\" height=\"180\"><\/a><\/p>\n<p>As we conclude this Advent Season, and now begin the Christmas Season, it\u2019s a perfect\u00a0time for my\u00a0periodic revisit of <em>Douglas \u2013<\/em>\u00a0the homeless man who briefly crossed my path in May 2014.<\/p>\n<p>I\u2019ve run into him just the one time. But his presence deeply\u00a0impacted my own life. And his brief story brought me here, to Patheos.<\/p>\n<p>So God bless you Douglas, wherever you are now. Here is your story, one more time, as I call to mind you and the desperate needs of our most vulnerable.<\/p>\n<p>___________________________<\/p>\n<p>Truth be told, the homeless have always frightened me. Once they cross my line of vision I become defensive: is this guy on drugs? Is she drunk? Will he turn violent if I stop to give him some spare change, in a less-than-heroic effort both to assuage my guilt and, perhaps, earn for myself some cheap \u201ckarma\u201d?<\/p>\n<p>This Easter season finally drove home to me the reality that I have good reason to be frightened, but of my own failings. Every person out on the street is a flesh and blood reminder of my constant failure. We are charged, after all, to find Christ amid them: \u201cWhatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me\u201d (<a class=\"vl-anchor decorated-link\" href=\"http:\/\/ebible.com\/query?utf=8%E2%9C%93&amp;query=Mt%2025%3A45&amp;translation=ESV&amp;redirect_iframe=http:\/\/www.patheos.com\/ebible\" target=\"_blank\" data-passage=\"Mt2545\">Mt 25:45<\/a>).<\/p>\n<p>Well, their numbers are surging again here in New York. The homeless cannot be avoided and they shouldn\u2019t be ignored.<\/p>\n<p>As a practical matter, for every street person that I may stop to talk to, or manage to throw a quarter at, or for whom I buy a cheap cup of coffee, there are at least ten more whom I choose to ignore, and many, many more that I don\u2019t even see. I can\u2019t think of anything more frightening.<\/p>\n<p>Here is just one true story. I am compelled to record it as a reminder to myself that every street person has been, and may well still be, loved by someone; each was a child with a future; each retains no small amount of dignity, no matter how or why they ended up here on the streets. It is also my small tip to Dorothy Day, who witnessed so much more than this every single day.<\/p>\n<p>I asked his name, and he responded, \u201cDouglas.\u201d Not Doug. He had worked in construction and looked as if the last shred of pride had been pounded out of him some time ago. Originally from Chicago, he found himself in New York for love\u2014a love that had rejected him, a love that \u201cdidn\u2019t even wait\u201d for him.<\/p>\n<p>Reeking of booze at eight in the morning, Douglas would attempt to shut out the world by sleeping in a CVS delivery doorway, on Third Avenue. Lacking a small bill, and not wanting to part with a twenty that he would probably just spend on more alcohol anyway, I walked past him, but slowly enough so that I could hear him asking for help, and read his handwritten plea. I had only recently learned that in New York City, a handwritten sign declaring their misfortune could protect the homeless from being charged with panhandling.<\/p>\n<p>Two blocks away, I ordered a takeout breakfast for myself, still thinking about Douglas. With a five-dollar bill among my change, I felt compelled to walk back to him. By then, his eyes were closed and his head was resting on his dirty yellow backpack. Rousing him\u2014he had no cup or box in which to leave money\u2014I said, \u201cHey buddy, I have something for you.\u201d He opened his eyes, and he gratefully received the small treasure. He blessed me: \u201cMay you have many, many children. And may all of your children have many, many children.\u201d I thanked him.<\/p>\n<p>In a gravelly, smoke-and drink-wrecked voice, he told me that he was completely alone. \u201cLook at me\u2014I have no one. No one loves me. My mom loved me. But she was the only one.\u201d That\u2019s when we exchanged first names, and he told me his background, and how he had been jilted when he got to New York. \u201cI\u2019ve got nothing in this world. These are my only clothes. I don\u2019t even have any underwear on.\u201d Then he added: \u201cYou know that you have to be a complete loser when even God doesn\u2019t love you.\u201d I dared to disagree, and said that I believed God does love him. \u201cThen why am I alone? How did I end up this way? Why would he let that happen?\u201d<\/p>\n<p>My response offered no relief. He was unashamedly crying and wiping tears and crud away from his eyes. I was only seconds behind. A flash went through my mind\u2014I saw Douglas first as a baby, and then I imagined him as a small child holding his mother\u2019s hand. I found myself wondering about all that might have happened since then, every broken promise and misstep that had landed him right here, in this doorway.<\/p>\n<p>He claimed that he had a bank account, but that he couldn\u2019t remember at which bank. I mentioned the Chase branch across the street, but he rejected that out-of-hand, almost disdainfully. I nearly laughed.<\/p>\n<p>Rummaging through his backpack, he looked for a bank statement as if to prove it to me. Giving up, Douglas told me that, because he doesn\u2019t have \u201cproper ID,\u201d he couldn\u2019t get his money out anyway. I believed him. I\u2019d be willing to bet that he does have a bank account, perhaps the last, small remnant of his former working life.<\/p>\n<p>In a voice more resigned than threatening, Douglas told me that he would more than likely step out in front of a bus or train, someday, because \u201cwhat\u2019s the point, I\u2019m all alone and no one cares.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>\u201cI care,\u201d I said, and the words probably sounded as hollow to his ears as they did to mine. I asked him to promise me that he would get help from Social Services; New York City does have some decent help to offer. At least, that\u2019s what the Mayor says. I suggested that he go over to the Catholic Church around the corner\u2014the one I had visited just a short time earlier\u2014and perhaps seek help there. He politely, but firmly, declined. I didn\u2019t offer to walk him over.<\/p>\n<p>Abruptly, Douglas pulled down his cap. He closed his eyes, and said, \u201cI\u2019m just going to stay here and turn into dust.\u201d I heard myself saying that we will all turn to dust one day\u2014obviously, not my most brilliant hour. I did, however, encourage him again to seek help. He said nothing.<\/p>\n<p>I returned three hours later, with some additional relief in hand, and\u2014I had hoped\u2014a more meaningful word of encouragement. But of course you already know how this ends. The dust and debris left behind in that doorway mocked my better intentions.<\/p>\n<p>Douglas\u2019s face and voice haunt me still.<\/p>\n<p>Image Credit: <a href=\"https:\/\/pixabay.com\/en\/wanderer-people-man-sleep-tramp-814222\/\" class=\" decorated-link\" target=\"_blank\" rel=\"nofollow\">Pixabay.com<\/a><\/p>\n<\/body><\/html>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>As we conclude this Advent Season, and now begin the Christmas Season, it\u2019s a perfect\u00a0time for my\u00a0periodic revisit of Douglas \u2013\u00a0the homeless man who briefly crossed my path in May 2014. I\u2019ve run into him just the one time. But his presence deeply\u00a0impacted my own life. And his brief story brought me here, to Patheos. [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1976,"featured_media":4617,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-1525","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO plugin v21.1 - https:\/\/yoast.com\/wordpress\/plugins\/seo\/ -->\n<title>Douglas-to-Dust, Revisited<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"As we conclude this Advent Season, and now begin the Christmas Season, it&#039;s a perfect\u00a0time for my\u00a0periodic revisit of Douglas -\u00a0the homeless man who\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.patheos.com\/blogs\/tomzampino\/2014\/12\/douglas-to-dust-revisted\/\" \/>\n<meta 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