Kate said it reminded her of a guy we met at Republic Square the year before. He was sitting on a park bench huddled under two thin blankets wearing shorts. He was a great big man – not fat – just really big – a veritable wall of a man. None of the shelters had anything to fit him. He had recently lost everything – literally everything. We must have given him five blankets to wrap up in because we didn’t have any big pants for him either.

  People are surprised to learn that the homeless usually won’t take what they don’t need. If we offer someone a blanket, he is likely to say, “No, thank you, but the guy in the wheelchair who lives behind the gas station could use one. Would you mind going over there when you get finished here?” Or “No, thank you, Ma’am. But would you happen to have a dry pair of socks.” One time a man to whom we had given a knit hat sheepishly handed me a toothbrush that was inside of it and said, “Maybe you can find someone else who could use this.” He flashed a huge gummy smile and said, “I don’t have any teeth.”

  Once, a man, who had refused a hat, came back and asked if he could have one after all because his friend showed him that they had socks inside of them. I told him that I was so sorry, but I had just given the last one away (and we were out of extra socks, too). I felt terrible. But, he said, “Oh, no. It’s okay. Thank you for all you’ve done for us. God bless you.” (And my standard response is, “He does everyday. And you’re very welcome.”)

  During our lunch hour one bitterly cold day, Kate and I were taking the bus to the bank. We looked out the window and saw a homeless man wearing flip-flops. That weekend, we were back downtown handing out blankets and whatnot. After we had given everything away, Kate said to me, “I’ve been looking for that flip-flop guy all day. Even after all the shoes we brought had been taken, I figured we could just give him your tennis shoes and go buy you some more.” I told her that I had looked for him, too, with the same thought in mind. She said, “I’m so glad to hear that. Helping you all these years has made me a better person. Before, I wouldn’t have even noticed if someone was homeless. And now, I am willing to give away the shoes off your feet.” (That sounds bad, doesn’t it? Allow me to clarify: Kate has tiny little child-sized feet, while I have rather, shall we say, substantial feet. Her shoes would never have fit him.)

  Every year we meet a couple of people who are so desperate to have a conversation with someone that they won’t let us leave. But that’s okay. It’s part of the deal. Breezy is especially understanding about that aspect. Even if we really need to go, she will not cut them off. If they wanted to talk for an hour, she would stand there and listen. (A couple of years ago, I had to practically throw her in the car so we could leave.)

  Sometimes, I find myself gently touching the people on their arm as I visit with them. Kate noticed that their demeanor softened when I touched them. I don’t think I will ever again take for granted the importance of human contact. Can you imagine a life where people wouldn’t speak to you, wouldn’t even look at you for fear of being panhandled, or a life where no one ever touched you?