A Face in the Crowd

Buildings in downtown Portland, OR
Photo by Rob Cork

I don't remember the first time that I saw him. I'm certain that I had probably seen him several times before I really took notice though. After living in the same neighborhood for a few years, and walking through it nearly everyday, a person gets a sense of who belongs there, who fits into this mosaic of people, cafes and small shops. Some folks blend, perhaps they fit so closely with the pieces that surround them, that they lose some of their personality, and color. Other people are ill-fitting, with jagged edges, their corners raised, cracked and chipped, poking out from the surface just enough spoil the overall effect. Then there are some real gems, like a cabochon, perfectly set into a stained glass window. But, sometimes even the most beautiful bit of colorful glass needs repair and cleaning after collecting years of grime.

While drinking coffee at our favorite Starbucks one evening, we watched him walk by. Rob and I started out calling him, "Crazy Homeless Dude." Actually, I probably started out calling him Crazy Homeless Dude, and it stuck.

As it turned out, Rob and I had both taken notice of the disheveled man with dirty dreadlocks and filthy, tattered clothing. There is something about him that strikes a chord of curiosity; we wish that we knew his story. But, we don't. So over the years, we've made up a story for him, then edited it and rewritten it. About six months ago, we decided that he needed a proper name, so we decided to call him William. He looks like a guy who should be named Will, but, I still slip up and call him Crazy Homeless Dude, once in awhile.

Portland has a seemingly large homeless population, and in my neighborhood there are panhandlers who have their corners, benches or patches of sidewalk. They're part of the mosaic. And as much as I expect to asked for money by some folks, I know that William will never ask me for anything.

For months, I assumed that he didn't speak. He seems to float in a bubble of his own making. He walks about the neighborhood, sometimes checking trash cans for discarded foods and drinks, which he consumes at the can and promptly tosses the unwanted parts back into the bin. He seems to be only semi-lucid, until he makes eye contact. Then it's obvious that there is a person deep down under the grime.

One day when I was walking to the Safeway, I saw him talking to another man on the street. Actually, he was bantering, and laughing, as he talked about the Portland Trailblazers basketball team. I remember being completely surprised that he actually does speak. And I was strangely happy with this new information.

If Rob and I don't see him for a few days, we begin to worry. One day after nearly a month had gone by, we saw him in another neighborhood, clean, neatly dressed and with a fresh new haircut. We had to look twice to make sure that it was him. But, when he looked at us, with recognition, then we knew for sure that it was Will.

As the weather gets warmer, the neighborhood begins to come back to life, and more people begin to fill the streets. One day, Rob and I walked past a bench where Will was sitting, and excited to see him after several weeks, we both smiled, maybe said a silent hello and prayer for him as we walked past. I remember how carefully he looked at us, then a slight smile came to him. Rob and I talked about this later, deciding that, we must stand out to him, just as he does to us.

So there is this odd 'relationship' forming. I've tried to think of a comparison, but, I don't really have one. Perhaps it is akin to chatting with the cat lady who lives in the basement apartment down the street, when you see her at the grocery store. Perhaps it's nothing like that. Perhaps it's nothing at all. Perhaps it isn't even a relationship, except that Rob and I choose it to be. Perhaps it is completely one-sided, and that we only imagine that he recognizes and acknowledges us. Then something happens to make us think otherwise.

Thursday was as close to a perfect Spring day as I will ever see. Rob and I both had busy days, and as evening approached, I didn't want to cook, so we decided to go out for sushi. We walked hand-in-hand under a crisp blue sky, enjoying just being together, soaking up the sunshine. As we walked past the Starbucks our favorite barista stopped washing the store windows for a moment and waved enthusiastically. He always has a genuine smile, and a kind word for people. Rob needed to buy cigarettes, so we dropped by the tiniest tobacco and beer store you've ever seen, a transformed garage, now a market, owned by a husband and wife, immigrants from Ethiopia. She commented on how much she enjoys seeing us walking together in the neighborhood, and how the other day, when Rob was alone, she asked about me. Later in the evening, Rob and I talked about how just living life, happily doing so, and with the grace of God, can be a blessing to others.

And, we saw William that night. Actually, we saw him twice, though I only now remembered the first time. I was driving home after picking up Rob. Will was trying to cross the street, but, got confused by a car that went against the light. He stopped in the street, then returned to the safety of the corner, seemingly unsure of what was the right move to make. I was turning left, and was waiting for him to realize that, indeed, he had the walk signal and that it was his turn to cross. He looked directly at me, then stepped into the street, slowly crossing.

The second time we saw him that night was when we were walking home from the restaurant. He was sitting in a bus stop shelter, about one block from where he had crossed the street earlier in the evening. He had his dirty gray blanket with him, pushed to the side, taking up space on the bench. He looked right at us, and smiled. We smiled back and said, "Hello." Then, unexpectedly, he said, "Hello," back to us. After years of silently wishing him well, of praying for God's blessings upon him, it was the first time that he has spoken to either of us.

As simple as this sounds, we each had such a sense of joy that we were acknowledged by this curious stranger to whom we feel this connection.

I cannot explain why any of this is important to me, or why you should be interested, but, what I can tell you is that, Rob and I believe that we are being called to be a blessing to this man. And, I cannot tell you what that means, what 'being a blessing' looks like, or what will be asked of us. I can only say that it is real, and that we are awaiting whatever our next step will be.