Apparently, my homeless friend is in the process of getting a place to live. The place he found is near the college he wants to start taking classes at.
The amazing thing is that it took someone (me) to simply say to him that his situation is unacceptable – for him. For six months, he accepted being homeless for reasons I don’t understand.
Maybe sometimes people get so use to accepting a negative fate that they don’t see that that same fate is something that can be overcome.
Maybe some thing that to challenge and fail to change that fate will result in a worse condition than the unacceptable present. I don’t know.
Either way, I’m glad I was their for him.
A couple of nights ago I got in a conversation with a guy I know. He told me that he felt that he could put his trust me. We’re not really friends…co-workers for the most part.
He’s 43, Vietnamese American, about 5’2″ tall. He’s an extremely hard worker, one of the hardest I’ve ever met. Very professional. Very conscientious.
His personality – and his appearance – is similar to that of the minions in the movie “Despicable Me”. Tiny, determined, always willing to please. He’s the type of person that others will find somewhat hilarious…in an affectionate way. At his previous job, his nickname was – to no surprise – “Turbo”. He’s the type of person that most women would describe as being “cute”…most men may subconscioulsly think that as well, although we don’t use that word.
Last night he told me he was homeless. He’s been homeless since last August.
It’s been subfreezing here for about ten days now.
His biggest dream has been to get a four year degree in biology. I’m not sure why as I don’t know if he is looking to do something in related fields. I get the sense, at the very least, that it’s actual concept of having that degree. He’s determined to get it. It aches at him because he doesn’t feel complete. And I think that the reason that it aches him so much is because he’s lost both parents (something he often mentions) and he sees a degree as a way of fulfilling his own dream…a dream made possible through the sacrifices that his parents made by emigrating here years ago.
So each night, around midnight, he pulls into a covered parking lot of a gym, pulls out his sleeping bag that he says is made for temperatures that can get to -20 F and hopefully gets some sleep. He can shower in the gym because he’s a member…the monthly fee of $49 provides him this opportunity and is a de facto paying of rent. He’s got his rice cooker in his car. He still has his dream, but he has this fear that it’s slipping away.
And I’m the only one who knows this.