The Homeless Guy In The Park

I've become friends with this homeless guy, Bob, I see every day when I walk my dog in the park.  Bob’s  home is an ancient van, and I find him in the same spot in the park every day.  At night, Bob moves his van outside the gate when they lock it, and moves it back in the morning when they open it again.  There’s quite a thriving homeless population (can I use the word “thriving” in this context?) who gather in the park in the early morning, but disappear shortly after dawn.  Bob seems to be the Elder Statesman of the group, maybe because he’s the only one with a vehicle.

When I stopped to say hello to him the other day, he told me that he now realizes that he has become the man he always wanted to be.  I wasn't sure how to respond … I mean, the man is homeless!  He’s sitting in his van, and the seat beside him and dashboard are piled high with all his possessions, mostly books.  It doesn't seem to me that he’s achieved anything that anyone would consider worthwhile. 

He explained it like this:  “Every afternoon, I have time to play my guitar, and people gather around me and listen and enjoy my playing.  And many of the people who come by, like you, stop to say hello and see how I’m doing.  I talk to happy people all day long, and everyone is interested in what I have to say and I’m interested in them.  I have this beautiful view (the lush green landscaped park grounds, surrounded by majestic trees).  And the people round here (the other homeless guys) come to me for help sometimes, and most times, there is something I can do to help.”

I can see what he means.  I want the same things:  having a talent, something I can do that brings enjoyment to other people, a community of people who care about me and respect me and my views, beautiful surroundings, and the ability to help others. 

Bob, the homeless guy in the park, has the same goals and life dreams as I have … only he’s got them all in order, and I’m still working on mine.  

I've got a ways to go yet.