Mike

Mike was sitting on a bench when I saw him this afternoon. He quietly said something about "change" in a voice so low it seemed like he wasn't really expecting anyone to hear. I sat down next to him and sensed a bit of surprise. Mike quickly warmed up and we talked for 15 minutes before I even took out my camera.

Mike is 58 years old and has been homeless for a little over a year. He told me he lost all of his money to a woman who "moved in and cleaned the place out. Took all my money and I lost the apartment."
Mike used to own a bar and was the primary bartender for years. He now lives in a local mission shelter and hopes that he'll soon be able to save enough of his social security check to scrape together rent money for his own place. He explained how he has to sleep on the floor at the shelter and the piece of foam he uses as a mattress hurts his body. "Hard to get up off the floor at my age, with my bad back," he said. I shook Mike's curled hand, tight with arthritis, and he thanked me for the conversation.

Thinking this evening that it sure would be nice if not one more person ever had to sleep on a thin foam pad in an overcrowded shelter.