He’s tall, thin with a face that is childlike and covered with a cloud of confusion. He walks all night long, sleeps (where?) during the day. He has watched us from afar for many months, too timid to approach us, even though the smell of the food brings him within 50 ft of us. The others tell us that he is “simple”, doesn’t communicate well, is afraid of everything, everyone. They say that he often does not get anything to eat. They have taken food from us and carried over to him. Sometimes they ask if they can take him 2 sandwiches, saying that he needs more to eat. Since he has been around them–never actually ‘with’ them, but on the outskirts of where they gather, he will hesitantly take the food from them. He looks at it as if he doesn’t comprehend what it is, then he wolfs it down.

This scenario has repeated itself many times over the past 7 months. Just in the last month or so, he has started coming closer to the edge of the group we are feeding.

If we walk over and hand food to him, he will take it, look at it again in a questioning manner, then the food disappears down his throat. Last week, he walked up to us as we were ladling out hot soup, as if he were a regular ‘customer’. I quietly asked him if he needed socks (as I held them out for him to see) and his face was contorted with indecision, he rubbed his chin and reached out for the socks. I offered him water and it seemed to confuse him. I softly told him he needed to drink plenty of water, and put several bottles in a bag and handed them to him. He was offered more food and took every edible thing we had. I don’t remember him ever actually speaking, but that night he was right there, in the middle of the action.

Tonight we park in a dark alley between 2 parking lots which is sprinkled with bodies getting ready for the long night. These people are hungry and keep on coming, more and more of them. The food supply, which seemed so abundant just a couple hours earlier when we started out, has nearly been emptied. Far in a solitary unlit corner, I see a dark form move and take on the shape of a tall, thin man. I know it’s him, because he was off to himself, not a part of the loosely formed group of hungry men lying on the pavement waiting for sleep.

He knows our van, and knows that he will get food, a smile and no strings attached. He walks quickly to our van and is fed, then makes his way back over to the private area where he had been leaning on a fence, and he blends in again with the night.

These are human beings we are feeding but I can’t help but think of a frightened, defenseless animal when I encounter this man. He’s come a long way to be able to come up to us for food, instead of standing on the outskirts, hoping for some food to come his way.

I wonder how he was as a child. I would guess his age to be 40 something. Did he go to school? Was he institutionalized because of his limitations? Was he released when he became 18? Is he one of the castoffs from the closing of Central State? Does he have family? Does anyone miss him? Does he miss anyone? Today is Mother’s Day. Did he have a mother who raised him and loved him? Does he remember her?

We ask no questions, except “do you want a sandwich? how about some soup? do you need water?” The food and water is gone too soon on this outing. When the nights end like this, I am deeply saddened…yes–we fed many, many hungry people tonight, but there are others we did not help. Are they hungry, thirsty, scared, without hope?

By Linda Cuff