Brad...

Today Ace and I walked the river.  There is one stretch that is populated by homeless men.  This morning, as we began that stretch, there was one very tall, lanky young man with blonde dreads who rose from a seated position, wrapped a blanket over his shoulders, greeted us and strode up the sidewalk, soon to disappear.  As Ace and I commenced along the path, the young, lanky guy seemed to have been the only "resident homeless", although we met other hikers, runners, walkers.  About half the length of the walk, beside a cement picnic table, sat a somewhat slight figure in a gray hoodie, head dropped, legs stretched out, crossed at the ankle.  A small cooler sat on the cement beside him.  Then, I noticed blood everywhere...on the picnic table, on the cement surrounding the figure, on his hands...on his clothes..the hood of his sweatshirt stained with big circles of blood.

I stopped and spoke, "Hey, are you okay?"  When he lifted his head, his right eye was so swollen it seemed to
take up the whole right side of his face.  His forehead looked like hamburger, swollen and clotted with blood.
His "good" eye was very jaundiced...the white of his eye very, very yellow...as was his the rest of his skin.

"You ok?"  I repeated.  He nodded.

"I think I need to call for some medical help," I said.

"I'm fine."  he said.

"You know what?  You're looking pretty rough.  You really need some medical attention.  Do you want to tell me what happened?"

"I fell"  he said.  "I'll be fine."

"Well, I'll tell you:  if I had a mirror, you would think you needed some help,"  I said, my eyes widening, offering a slight smile.

"Then I'm going to leave,"  he said, trying to pick up his belongings, barely able to move.
"Paramedics, police will come,"  he said.  "I don't have money for the hospital."

"That's ok; they'll treat you.  You need help.  You're pretty beat up..."

"Then I'm going to leave..."

He was so weak, his movements very slow and labored.  But, I didn't know how long it would take for help to respond and that river area is so dense with vegetation and trees.  Were this young man to move into the dense growth I considered that, because of his condition, he might just fall into the river and drown.  Secondly, I had no confidence at all that were he successful in moving into the dense brush before assistance arrived, that any extended effort would be made to search for him.

"What's your name?"  I asked.  He raised his head and just looked at me with his one good eye for some time.  Slowly, he responded,"Brad."  His voice was weak, barely above a whisper.

"Brad.  Brad, your life has value.  There are people who love you.  I'm am not leaving you here like this.  I am not leaving.  I have a son about your age.  I wouldn't want people to leave him out here like this.  I have to call for help.
How old are you?"

"28."

"28"  I repeated after him.  "Brad, you have a whole life ahead of you.  Who do you love, Brad?"

He dropped his head.  Softly, softly he said, "My family...brother...sister..."

"Older brother..?"  I queried.

"Yeah, he's doing good.  Real good."  His voice was so soft; halting.  "Not like me...  but, I was in the Navy."  (Pause)  " Did four years," he offered quietly.

"You know, Brad, as long as you're breathing in life, you can start anew.  You can start anew.  You can get well, get back on your feet; maybe help someone else...set an example for someone else.  You are young; you have a full life to look forward to...  I don't care if you want to be angry with me, but I'm not leaving you here like this.  I'll stay with you until medical help comes. "

His one good eye studied me from his seated position on the ground.  A man about my age in a "Shell" work shirt came walking.  He glanced at the seated figure, winced and kept walking.  I signaled to the man to call for help, while trying to keep the young man engaged in conversation.  After a pause, the man called 9-1-1...  A thin, 40-something woman in white jeans and blouse, sporting a spray-on-tan, on lunch break from a near-by business came along and stopped.  She was insistent the young man tell her who had beat him up, which stressed him immensely.  Clearly, he was not going to give up any of that information right there.  "I fell.." he kept insisting.  She did offer him a cigarette which he welcomed.

Officers of the law arrived. Now, I don't have an attitude about the police.  I definitely appreciate them.  But, I've lived long enough to know there can be great inequities in their responses to given situations. These officers were quite full of themselves, if I do say.  Arrived on the scene with an attitude about "another homeless", clearly.  I kid you not:  one officer, behind very black sunglasses, stepped way inside my personal space and did a "Barney Fife", i.e. drew a deep, long breath through his nostrils while pulling up his trousers and puffing out his chest.   Rough and gruff and rude and impatient w/out an ounce of empathy.  Exactly the reason Brad didn't want any interaction with them, I thought, feeling a bit as if I had betrayed him; still, not regretting calling for help.  Whether or not he had warrants, who knew?  Maybe.  Probably.  So, Officer Gruff and Officer Rude looked at the three of us standing and told us to leave.

"Put out the cigarette!  Remove your hood!"  they commanded Brad.   Ace and I lingered momentarily, until we heard the sounds of the ambulance.  I stooped between the officers so I could see Brad's face...until he looked up at me.  "Bye.."  I mouthed,  my hand held upright, pausing....  "Bye, Brad..."  I said softly.

Maybe he wasn't even homeless.  In retrospect, his clothes were pretty clean.  Hoodie was an expensive one, clean, except for the staining of recent events, gray, with crossed gold oars for team crewing on the front.  He had a little facial hair.  When the officers had him remove his hood, I noted a neatly-trimmed ash-blonde head of hair.

Homeless or not, I am left thinking about the people I know who had already passed him by
before I came along.

"Did that man who passed just before I came along offer to help you?"  I remember asking, aghast no one had stopped to help him already.

Who are we?  Who are we, as a society...that we can pass someone...homeless or not...like that??  

                                                                    ~~~

As Ace and I returned to our parked car, I went into a nearby fast-food restaurant to use the facilities.  Near the entrance sat the tall, lanky young homeless man we had first seen.  He nodded "hello", recognizing me from our earlier encounter.  I knew he had to have walked past Brad before we came along.

"Do you know that guy who was beat up down there by the river?"  I asked.  "You know him?  You see him?"  The guy nodded.  "He's in pretty rough shape..." I said.

"I think he'll be fine.  He'll be okay."  the guy responded, somewhat nonchalantly.