“My birthday is June 21st. I’ll be 61 years old,” were some of the first words I heard from the man lying under the bridge on a freezing cold night several months ago. He was unable to walk due to an accident years before. He was lying on a piece of cardboard, shivering. Someone gave us large pieces of thick foam, and we made him a bed out of it. One of our members carefully lifted him up while we placed the ‘bed’ under him. We gave him a pillow, covered him with blankets, topped off with shower curtain liners–to help keep him dry and to preserve what little body heat he had.

“I don’t want to die under this bridge,” was something he said frequently. We trudged up the hill with hot soup for him, water, sandwiches, hot coffee. He was ever so grateful but a little dumbfounded by this group of people who appeared rain or shine, in the freezing cold, with comforts to offer, asking no questions.

“I’ll start getting a disability check in April and I’m getting out from under this bridge,” he started telling us in early March. Was this true? We often hear statements like that and we just listen, not knowing if they are true statements, dreams of the homeless, or something they say because they think it’s something we want to hear. When his blankets get wet, we replenish them with dry ones. And the soup keeps coming, hot, nourishing soup, made by the mother of one of our members.

“Is your mom married?” is one of his questions. (She is, so he decides not to extend a marriage proposal, not wanting to break up a marriage.)

“I’m getting an apartment,” he tells us and we wonder, is this true? Is this something he’s just wishing would happen?, “I don’t know what I’m going to do for furniture.” When he says this, my ears perk up.

I talk with him a bit more about the ‘apartment’ and he says a church group has found an apartment for him and he can afford it when his check starts coming. I decide he must be getting an apartment, indeed! I tell him we can get furniture for him, and a good supply of food to get him started. He holds onto my hand tightly, staring deep into my eyes,

“You will help me?”

“Yes,” I answer and start the emails going—asking for furniture for this man’s chance to get out from under the bridge.

It all comes together rather quickly—–a small table and chairs, a complete set of dishes, silverware, glasses, all in a US flag motif———he is ecstatic……….a veteran who loves the flag!

Pots, pans, groceries, a microwave, coffee table, end tables, lamps, towels, an armchair with footstool, drapes for his one window and a futon for him to use as a sofa and a bed (his apartment is a small efficiency).

“Oh, don’t let me forget the TV, VCR with remote!” He asks for his picture to be taken, sitting on the futon, with the remote in his hand and then the picture to be taken back to those still under the bridge, with the message ”you, too, can get out from under the bridge.”

He has a bit of a “red tape” glitch in receiving his 2nd disability check, and a group member volunteers a temporary financial gift. He’s still out from under the bridge, sitting on that comfortable futon, with his remote control!

He tells us he wants to stay in contact with us, because we have become “family” to him.

April, May, June……………last night was June 21st—his birthday. Seven of us meet at a restaurant with him to celebrate……….not his 61st as previously stated, only his 59th! (I think he felt older sleeping under a bridge in the wet cold).

He asks to make a speech, and it’s obvious he’s fighting tears. He quietly tells us that he loves everyone of us, that we have done for him–in last several months——-and tonight, on the anniversary of the day of his birth——things that his family never did. He’s struggling with his emotions as the seven of us celebrate the fact that he was born…….something his family never celebrated.

We sing the requisite “Happy Birthday”, he blows out the one candle, and sits—-with a look of amazement on his face. Gifts appear and he sits still for few minutes, and finally says it has been over 30 years since anyone gave him a birthday gift.

The gifts are opened, deeply appreciated, we take him back to the apartment, to sit on the comfortable futon, with the remote in his hand and the assurance that he does have a ‘family’ now.

By Linda Cuff