Uncle Mike

My general feeling about vagrants is that I could very easily end up as one someday. In fact, any of us could. Who's to say that we won't one day lose our job for some unknown reason, not be able to pay our bills, resort to binge drinking to dull our pain, get kicked out of our abode and end up on the street? Is it really that unlikely? No, not really. You just never know.

I used to live in Beacon Hill. which is an aesthetically pleasing section of Boston that borders the Common. Anyway, I would walk to work everyday and theretofore, walk home. There was this one vagrant in the park that stood out to me on a regular basis, because somehow this guy would receive frequent hugs from people and it looked like he did pretty well in the change department. He always had a coffee and a cruller from DD and a smile on his face. I started giving him my change regularly, and soon enough I was looking for loose change and small bills in my apartment to give to him. Eventually, it came to a point where I would give him $10 every payday and sure enough, I started receiving hugs from this man. It's not like I really felt like I was doing something good for the world, but just for him. There was no dejection about this man, no despair. It's like he knew his predicament and accepted it as reality. When you think about it, that's all it was; his reality. It still is his reality.

I don't live in Beacon Hill anymore, but a good friend of mine does and every time I'm down there at his place, I run into my friend from the Common. Only now, he makes his outpost on Cambridge St. in Beacon Hill; he's usually in front of the White Hen Pantry there. Well, I saw him last night and just like every other time I have seen him, I was genuinely happy to make his acquaintance. I gave him the only $5 dollar bill that I had and I told him that I wished it could be more. Truth be told, I can't spare five bucks. That's a pack of cigarettes, a beer, a sandwich...it's probably the same for him, too. In this irony, I assign the same value to that five bucks. With much naivety, I assume that he's not buying liquor with it, or worse than that, crack or some shit. Hey, facts are facts, man. Most vagrants buy booze and drugs with their spare change because it's a release from their given situation. I just don't have the same theory for my friend because he's happy and he remembers every face that graces his path each day. One of the last times I saw him, I was with my friend Rich-the one who lives on the Hill-and our friend was there at his post. He asked for any money we could spare so he could take his girl to the movies. I think we scraped together $10 or so and wished him luck with gathering enough to accomplish his goal.

We saw him the next day and no, he didn't get a chance to take his girl to the movies. We expressed our regrets and gave him another few dollars for whatever he was in the market for that day.

His name is Mike and he looks like a miniature Rasheed Wallace. He stands about 5' tall, carries a smile and usually coffee and a donut, as mentioned above. He's always referred to me as 'Uncle', and all of my friends who have met him, subsequently. Next time you're on the Hill, see if he's there. Pay him a visit. Give him change, coffee or nothing, I don't care. But say hello to him. In my opinion that's just as valuable to this man as your grubby money.