Just Like a Homeless Guy

I set out this morning to put fuel in our van. I buy gas at The Pump in Excelsior, a small town west of Minneapolis. Our friends at The Pump donate a tank of gas each month to help our outreach to the homeless. They also host a ‘spare change jar’ for our ministry near their register. We couldn’t continue without loyal supporters like our friends at The Pump.

While I was in Excelsior, I took pictures of some cabin-homes where my sister used to live. A collection of these quaint homes are on Lake Minnetonka near the site of the old Excelsior Play Land amusement park. The park closed down in the late 1960’s.

The Rolling Stones performed at Excelsior Play Land in ‘65 or ‘66. Story goes, while Mick Jagger was visiting the local Drug Store (to get a prescription filled), he ran into Jimmy who looked pretty ill. The ‘Jimmy’ in the song, ‘You Can’t Always Get What You Want’, is a true-life resident of Excelsior, Minnesota.

When I met Jimmy years ago, he was still spending most of every day walking the streets of Excelsior. He was overweight and he moved in a lazy way, like he had nothing else to do. He wasn’t particularly handsome, in an ugly sort of way; he was always a bit disheveled. When he walked, he carried his head low with his eyes to the ground. When he talked, he looked down to the world at his feet. When he sat on a corner bench, he'd chew the stub of a fat cigar and his eyes always looked down. Jimmy carried his whole self in a perpetual slouch and was often mistaken for a homeless guy.

Many Water Street business folks didn’t like Jimmy because he looked poor. He was always being accused of panhandling because people offered him money thinking he needed money. With progress in mind, folks blamed Jimmy for scaring away tourists. He could have been a real-life tourist attraction, right out of a Rolling Stones’ song, if folks in Town thought he could have made them a buck. But Jimmy looked too much like a homeless guy.

I don’t know if Jimmy is alive today. I haven’t seen him on the streets of Excelsior for awhile. I’ve heard that he’s stuck in a hospice care facility in Town. If he is alive and living in an old folk’s home, he’s effectively homeless. If he has family and friends to care for him, he’s one of the lucky ones, but I doubt it. I picture Jimmy living out his golden years in style, but I imagine he still looks pretty ill; just like a homeless guy.

If Jimmy is alive, he could use your prayers for peace and health. And if you think a letter of encouragement would help him, send your best wishes, along with a buck, to:

Jimmy the homeless guy
C/O General Delivery
Excelsior, MN 55331.


I think Jimmy deserves as much. After all, he walked the streets of obscurity most of his life, just like a homeless guy. In the least, he deserves a cup of tea ... eh, Mick?

A Fine Day Ahead

I had a feeling it was going to be a fine day today from early on. It was about 6:00 am when I got up to tend to my dogs. I sat outside for an hour, sipped coffee from my thermos and looked across the yard to the day ahead.

Early morning is like no other time of day for me. This morning was especially fine. The chatter of critters hummed from in the trees. I breathed slow and deep and filled my lungs with a pleasant air that could have swallowing me up. I knew from early this morning, there would be a fine day ahead.

I had a few errands to run; a couple of places to go; a hundred people I hoped to visit. There just isn’t enough time in every day, if you ask me. But, today was going to be a fine day; I knew that from the start.

I ordered a print online from one posted Monday (A Fine Day to Pray). The photo was of Willie and JohnBoy taken at fellowship. I wanted to get that photo to my friend first thing today.

When I arrived at the Drug Store to pick up my 22-cent print, I met Helen. Helen is an older lady who pleasantly tried to be helpful. She was amazed at how she didn’t understand ordering prints from home on the computer. I described the photo of my two friends from Sunday's fellowship. I told her that I was taking the print to my volunteer friend in Waconia. I showed Helen the print, and she pointed. Her finger moved between the two as if playing ‘This Little Piggie’, and finally stopped: ‘So, this …this … this is your friend … from town, I mean.’ Helen’s finger pointed to the man wearing the cap. I explained that both men in the photo were my friends; simply, friends. She softly agreed, “Of course.”

Helen rang up my purchases as we chatted. I don’t remember the words we shared, but it was a heart-felt discourse about hope and the homelessness. Tears swelled up in my eyes at one point, and Helen looked up. She asked, “Sir, I’d like to give you a hug.”

There I am, a 50-something old cripple, bent over the counter giving this frail, 70-something mother a big old bear hug. I wish I had pictures. It was an emotional milestone in what proved to be a very fine day.

I visited with a lot of friends today. I do every Friday. I got many hugs throughout the day, but Helen's hug was my frist birthday hug of the day!

Today, I was 53 years old. I was born on the 23rd of June, 1953. It certainly was a fine day … for sure.

Homey Headlines

Today from Ventura County, California

Homeless Are Ordered Out

In a hybrid attempt at compassion and policing, a team of police officers, social workers, mental health and housing specialists swept the Santa Clara River bottom looking for homeless campers …
… yellow warning notices with social service referrals were tucked under cans of food, (left) on dented coolers, propped on ripped lawn chairs or laid on piles of filthy clothes.

This sweep of homeless camps along a river in Oxnard was prompted by a recent murder, and by an increase in vandalism and thefts in the area. City officials, social service workers and the homeless know the increased crime isn’t perpetrated by the homeless, but by criminals that prey on the homeless, the poor and the vulnerable. The homeless who live in seclued camps to avoid crime loose everything when they don't conform to social service program criteria. Often, programs that provide services to the homeless provide criminals anonymity and concealment making it easier for them to conduct criminal business.

At a local Twin Cities shelter, a survey was conducted of 80 men staying overnight at the facility. Over half had cell phones, most used to conduct organized criminal activity.

At a local soup line, the MPD effected a drug sting to nab two dozen ‘homeless’ persons for marijuana possession and drug dealing. That sting shut down the pot supply and pot smoking among the homeless community for a couple of weeks. As a result, crack became the high on the hill. It’s been known that crack users and dealers work the receiving docks at some charities, and donations to those charities go through ‘volunteer' crack dealers before ever reaching the needy.

Homeless Are Welcomed Here

People in all walks of life lump others that are different into distinct groups, or communities. Society tosses together a group of poor and distraught individuals who have no permanent address, and labels them ‘homeless’. The homeless share a peculiar walk in life, but they are not all criminals. Violent and predatory individuals have crept into the homeless family, and prey on the most vulnerable. Predatory and violent criminals live among the ‘middle’ class, as well; I’ve heard them called ‘bankers’, ‘ceo’s’, and elected ‘public’ officials.

I have friends who are business owners, friends who are business doers, and friends who have no business at all. It doesn’t matter to me if my friends have homes or not; when soup’s on, all friends are welcome here.

Especially tomorrow; it's my birthday!

Twin Cities Needs No Headlines

“Just call them poor people and be done with them.”

I invest some of my time studying issues concerning the homeless from across the globe. It’s easy to research topics on the internet, and I subscribe to a few news groups that specifically address homeless issues. I’m always surprised to learn that while cultures and colors may change, cruel attitudes and malicious opinions about the poor and homeless know no borders.

Here are some headlines I uncovered yesterday concerning the homeless:

Baton Rouge will use horse patrols to deal with homeless.

"We recognize that post-Katrina, our homeless population has grown. We want to protect the rights of these individuals, but we certainly want to protect citizens from any harassment," stated an administrator from the mayor’s office.

Some of the City’s homeless problem likely involves ‘citizens’ and is a result of Katrina, worsened by the bungling efforts of FEMA. I wonder why the City’s homeless are considered ‘these individuals’, and not ‘citizens’ by the mayor’s office? As long as officials see the homeless as ‘a singular and separable group’ apart from the community, any community efforts to help the homeless will be futile, unless covert.

A metro Council member added “Since Katrina there has been a huge influx of, for lack of a better word, tramps or bums or panhandlers. And they’re very aggressive.”

People use words like ‘tramp’ or ‘bum’ to describe all homeless people out of ignorance and lack of respect, not for lack of a better word. Then the same people usually have to add thoughtless last words trying to justify their bigoted opinions.

Such prejudice against the homeless shouldn’t be surprising to the ‘citizens’ of the Twin Cities. We need no headlines.

Radio shows in our area frequently blast the homeless. I came across such a diatribe on a popular morning show last March. The program’s host interrupted an onslaught of homeless jokes and insults to exclaim, “Well, it’s no secret how I feel about the homeless!” He quickly added, “Except the mental ones.”

‘Except the mental ones?’ That sounds just like, ‘and they’re very aggressive’ from Baton Rouge. When I heard those March words, I quickly turned off my radio and thought about the comment made by the host of the mourning show. I was surprised, but not jock-shocked. I used to work with the celebrity that made that comment. He was one of the people that influenced me to get out of ‘the business’ and to get involved with the homeless almost twenty years ago.

Here's another headline:

Orlando moves to limit mass meals to the homeless.

If charitable groups want to feed the homeless in Orlando, they'll have to find someplace other than city parks -– or city property -- to do it. An ordinance was passed by the city council that states, “No one can feed groups of 15 or more people without a one-time-use permit, and such permits shall be issued no more than twice a year to one person, and the city will dictate the location of the group feeding.”

Cool. I get it and I agree. If charitable organizations want to feed the homeless and hungry in groups larger than 14 at a time, they should open their churches, their homes and other private property, as well as their hearts to the poor, the homeless, the elderly and the disabled. When Christ fed thousands at a time, He set the crowd down (in groups), blessed the food (in portions), and gave the food to His disciples. His disciples then passed the food on, with all the blessings, to the smaller groups (Matt 14).

I’ve feed more than 300 people on the streets in one day, some in groups of more than 60 people at one time. It was nuts! I’d rather feed many small groups one at a time, than one large group all at one time. It's common sense. Plus, it’s more respectful to the hungry folks, it’s easier to hear each individual, and the food tastes better!

It shouldn’t be any problem for nonprofits in Orlando or the Twin Cities or any city to feed small groups. If the hungry are many, make more groups and get more ‘disciples’ to pass on the blessings. Then, feed the small groups in city parks, on city sidewalks or under city bridges, if that’s what the city wants. Better yet, respect the rights of every city citizen and fellowship with the hungry and poor out of the sights and minds of bigoted bullies that would label these people ‘tramps’ and ‘bums’ (or ‘mental ones’) before they get to know them.

Feeding and caring for the poor, the homeless, the elderly and the disabled isn’t rocket science! All it takes is one compassionate person to do one quiet act of random kindness, with respect … times a million persons. If society, especially Christian society, could muster up the million, I bet there wouldn’t be any homeless in Orlando, Baton Rouge or the Twin Cities.

Hey, if we can’t find one million people to each do one good thing, then let's at least find a million people who won’t do a million bad things. It would be a start to ending homelessness, as we know it. And it wouldn’t take headlines or a Ten Year Plan.

Waking Up This Morning

I woke up this morning, and I can hardly move my fingers. My hands feel like they’ve been crushed by a ton of rocks. My fingers are swollen; each one jammed and squeezed into its own distorted shape. If I soak my hands in hot water, it helps ease the pain for a minute. Now, as I type, I’m all thubms. I have arthritis all over my body, but this morning, like many mornings, the worst pain is in my hands. I can take pills for the pain, but I don’t do drugs. I’ve lived with arthritis for 25 years. There is no cure, short of a miracle straight from God. Yes, miracles happen everyday.

I have an elderly friend who woke up this morning, and he woke up tired. He says he doesn’t sleep much at night, even when he takes pills. He’s tired most of the day, too, and he doesn’t nap well. Today, my friend is going to his doctor to discuss radiation and chemotherapy for cancer. He recently had an operation, and the surgery/recovery is taking a toll on his old body. The treatment for cancer can be overwhelming, even devastating. There is no cure, short of a miracle straight from God. Yes, my friend believes in miracles, too. I hold him in my special prayers today!

I have a young friend who woke up this morning sick, sorry and sad. His head still throbbed from yesterday; his body ached from lying on a rock-hard floor. He tried to sleep last night, but the crowd and the commotion kept him awake. At the sound of the 6 AM alarm, he and 200 other men get driven from their refuge, out into a morning mist. The rain and the wind only strengthen the stench and resolve of the herd; most move north in search of breakfast.

This young friend of mine is homeless; he has no permanent address. He has spent every night of the past five years in ‘safe waiting’, a place that’s kind of like a prison, but there are no bars or guards to protect you. While treatment can be found for the symptoms and pain that comes with being homeless, there is no cure for my friend short of a miracle straight from God. I don’t know if my friend believes in miracles; I’m just getting to know him better. I keep my friend in my special prayers, too.

I know that God heals all manner of illnesses, and He can rid a man of any demon that would posses him. I also know that God gives you and me the power to heal and cast out demons, in Jesus’ name. As for me; I know about the pain and I’m learning about the power. As for being able to heal ... I don't know; I'm just waking up this morning.

How about you? How are you waking up this morning?

A Fine Day to Pray

I spent most of yesterday on the streets visiting my friends who have no permanent address. It was a terrific day, short of the argument that ensued when Cabbage returned from the bootlegger with a liter of vodka.

My friends know that when they pull out drugs or alcohol or stupid behavior while I’m serving food, I’ll drive away. I’ll leave in the middle of making sandwiches, if the Lord moves me. I’ve stopped a Bible Study in mid-verse, picked up and drove off into a rainy day, rather than get sucked in by the demons of the moment. I’ve survived this long, listening to my heart … and I’ve only been slammed a couple of times; but never killed yet. I’ll write more about it later, Lord willing …

When I got home Sunday afternoon, I had chores to do. Then, I spent hours at the computer downloading and editing photos and videos from the day. I didn’t get to bed until early this morning … there just isn’t enough time in a day. But heck, what do I know? God created the day, and He figured ‘It was good!’ I’ll live with it, thank you.

The rains Friday and Saturday pert near washed out Willie’s camp … but, Willie survived. He’s living in a dry creek bed; a creek that has been rerouted by folks that have a design for our future, and the future of creeks and woods and wild critters around the world. Willie said the rains didn’t wash him out, but they did a job on his laundry. He said the rushing water came about three feet from his bedroll. If you want to take a trip, have a look …



As I sat with Willie and JohnBoy and others at fellowship, someone started talking about how the Police and public officials have been treating the homeless and disabled on the streets lately. Everybody praised the wave of compassion and understanding that has been exercised toward the less fortunate. Someone said that on account we’ve all been treated so fairly, we should have a special day to celebrate our Public Servants; just like Father’s Day or Flag Day or Nickel Dickel Day! Then someone exclaimed … ‘Hey, we should just give ‘em all an extra-special amount of respect everyday!’

What a concept! As long as you keep the plug in the jug ... as long as you stay out’a sight and out’a mind … as long as you keep that busy little voice in your head quiet … you should get along just fine in this life. Boy, have we got our work cut out for us.

That’s okay, today. Today looks like a fine day to sit back and meditate about our future. Hummmmmm….

Happy Father's Day!

Last week, some of my friends on the street asked me what I’d be doing ‘on Father’s day.’ I had to think about it a minute … was it on a Saturday or a Sunday?

Well, I guess Father’s Day is today … Sunday. I did wake up early to cards and gifts and best wishes from family, and I’m grateful; kind’a. At my age, I’m grateful just to wake up in the morning. And yeah, I am a father, but the gift and card were from my wife, and I’m not her father, eh? Plus, I hardly talk to my kids during the rest of the year, unless we’ve gathered for a birthday or a funeral or some other celebratory occasion. We’re all too busy, I guess.

No, today is just a Sunday, and I plan (Lord willing) to do what I do every Sunday or Tuesday or Thursday or Friday. I’ll head out to the streets, the riverbanks and hidden bridges in search of my family and friends who have no permanent address. I know some of my friends are fathers, and I know from experience that many will be particularly despondent because they’re not there for their kids; and their kids are not there for them; and they should have done better with their lives; and … It goes on and on and on, ad nauseum.

Today is a day no different than any other day; except somebody in society made this a ‘special day’ of celebration for economic reasons. It’s the same reason the Christian Church made Easter and Christmas official ‘holy days’; to get more pagans to feel guilty (the primary weapon of our evil foe), and to get the guilt-ridden into churches so as to increase the size of the collection plates.

This day, I celebrate Heavenly Father’s Day with my family and friends on the street, just like I do everyday I’m out on the streets. This is the day the Lord has made, like every other day. It is a day to celebrate our freedom from past shortcomings, to pick ourselves up with the help of what family and friends we have, and to get on with our lives, confident that God is not looking to ‘get us’ for past mistakes … He’s looking to heal us, to forgive us, and to help us up and out of the misery of loneliness and self-pity.

Hey … today is a day just like every other day. So, Happy Heavenly Father’s Day!