Guest post from Nancy Olmsted
Saturday I went into downtown Portland for a hair appointment. I parked in my usual spot on Broadway, across from the Oregonian, pulled an umbrella out of my car, turned up the collar on my coat, and began walking briskly the 3 blocks to the salon. The rain was coming down in sheets, and the wind made it icy cold. I kept my head down trying to keep the rain from hitting my face, and walked as fast as I could.
I passed an old church, and from the corner of my eye, I saw someone lying in one of the doorways. With my head down, all I could really see were his feet. He was wearing those plasticy slipper kind of shoes and I could see his socks. They looked like they were covered in green mold. This made me stop.
I lifted my umbrella and the rain pelted me as I peered a little closer to see this man's feet. He was laying down, hunched in a semi-fetal position, his back to me. He wore some brown cotton pants and a gray sweatshirt which covered his face. His shoes had kind of come off a little, and as I looked, I confirmed, yes, the heel of his sock was covered in green mold. I just stood there staring for a moment...wondering, how long must this poor man have been walking around in wet socks for them to actually mold like that....months? years?
He lay there twitching, a Big Gulp cup at his head. I wondered if he was ill, drunk, or just sleeping. The doorway provided cover from the rain, but the wind was whipping around and I thought how cold and uncomfortable that must be on the hard cement he was laying on. I wondered what to do. Should I call the police to pick him up, take him someplace warm to dry out? Should I awaken him and ask if he needed help? I wasn't sure.
I was late for my appointment, so I raced ahead to the salon. As I pulled open the door, the wind grabbed it and I had to pull it shut, dragging my soaking wet umbrella behind me. The salon was warm. Holiday music was playing. Scented candles were burning. I was greeted by a beautiful young woman who asked me if I would like some water or hot tea or perhaps a hand massage while I waited for my appointment. I stood there, umbrella dripping in my hand, and just stared at her. "I'll be back in just a few minutes." I told her.
I raced out the door and ran down the street. I ran past the homeless man in the doorway. I ran to my car. I opened the door and pulled out a blanket I keep in the backseat. I quickly shook it out and tucked it under my coat to keep it dry and warm.
I went back to the man in the church doorway, unfolded the blanket and reached over to put it on him. I was a little apprenhensive...what if he awoke and was disoriented and maybe thought I was trying to hurt him. I entered the doorway and knelt down beside him. I was immediately hit with his odor...a strong scent of human waste and body odor. I gagged a little from the smell, but didn't want to cover my nose and mouth in case I woke him...I didn't want to embarrass him. I placed the blanket over his moldy sock covered feet and pulled it up all the way to the top of his shoulders. I made sure the blanket reached down around his back to the ground to keep the cold wind out. He moaned a little as I placed the blanket on him, but other than that he didn't move.
I walked back to my salon, asked to use the restroom and washed my hands and splashed warm water on my face. I was shaken. I was struck with the disparity between me and the man in the doorway. Here I was in a warm, luxurious salon, with people waiting to pamper and comfort me. He...he was unbathed, unkempt, and cold. It shouldn't be so...shouldn't everyone have at least some food, a warm place to wait out a storm, and the basic human dignity of a place to get clean and go the bathroom.
I sat in the waiting area, thinking...holding back tears. Thankfully my hairstylist was running late, so I had a few moments to collect myself together. Whether or not the man had made poor choices that helped to land him in his situation...I was sad for him.
Two hours later, I left the salon. I wondered if the man would still be in the doorway sleeping. I turned the corner and approached the church. I came upon the doorway, and saw he was no longer there. The Big Gulp cup was gone. A dirty stain remained on the cement where he had lain. And the blanket...the blanket was neatly folded and placed in a corner. He was gone, and I never did see his face.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010