o-s-c-a-r

I was walking into the shelter when I cavalierly said i am really hungry to a colleague as I walked through the lobby into a meeting. On my way back out I noticed a man sitting by the door.

Hey there, he said, are you still hungry?
A bit confused, I respond yeah, actually, I am.
So he holds out a bag and says I went and got this sandwich from the kitchen because I was hungry too. But I heard you say you were hungry so I saved half of it for you.

And he handed me his bag and turned to walk away. Flummoxed, I stop him and try and hand it back. I can stop and get something on my way out and I'd much rather you have your lunch for yourself. He refuses and grumbles can't an old man do something nice for a young lady anymore? And he turns with a grin and shuffles back to the yard.

There's choices you make in moments like this, choices that honor a man's dignity while trying to balance appropriate work conduct and nothing screams inappropriate work conduct like taking food from the homeless. So I follow him out and try again hey, I've got an idea, let's split it and eat it together. And he turns to me and smiles and says ok but you take the bigger piece, it'll never split up even anyways.

He takes the bag back and reaches gnarled hands inside and pulls out half of a bologna on white (how freaking predictable is that and I realize I really need to talk with our lunch cook for pete's sake because nothing screams homeless food like bologna on white) and tears it in half and hands it to me, the bigger half by an inch.

We stand outside the shelter amidst the smokers and the jivers, the wheelchairs and the sleepers, the workers and the readers and we eat the sandwich together making small talk about the weather. I find I like this man so much, a shelter is no place for him, no place for anyone really. And I bet if he could he'd invite me to lunch in his own home and he'd never serve me bologna on white in a paper bag, either.