There’s this homeless guy that I see many days.
He hangs out at the end of the ramp from the main highway near where I live.
He has a backpack and a cardboard sign.
He keeps regular hours. Basically 9:00-5:00 as best I can tell. Every day.
You know, like a real job.
This is a little confusing to me. I’ve often thought I should take the time to park and go ask him if he wants help applying for a job at one of the many businesses right near his spot.
I keep McDonald’s gift cards in my car that I give him sometimes when the light is red.
And I talk to him. I’ve asked his name, but I can’t remember it. Of course I sometimes forget the names of people I’ve met 12 times, but still, I’m not proud that I can’t remember homeless guy’s name.
Last Sunday I was driving to church with John’s sport coat and a nice black shirt in the car with me.
