The streets were the same. The roads were just as pockmarked and potholed as the days previous. But something caught my eye. In a split second, it grabbed my attention, changing my viewpoint forever. It was him. Standing there. Standing on your standard street corner. The same place. Same time. Each and every day. Had I not seen him before? Had I looked and seen him but ignored his threadbare Army camouflage jacket? Did he wear it all the time? Or had I been so complacent in my own world, studying my agenda, that it didn’t matter?

He’d stood on the corner of Broadway and First Street for years. Regulars, those coming and going into the city on the daily knew the old man. Knew where he stood, it being his ‘spot’ to ask for change or whatever charity the kindness of strangers would donate to him. I think he had a dog once. Others told me he did. They said the dog looked mangy and flea-ridden, but so did the homeless old man. What did it matter now? Why had it never occurred to me that he needed more than a few dollars, a meal, or a warm bed?

“Did you ever think you needed him more than he needed a handout from you?” She took a swig from a bottle wrapped in a paper bag. Tainted with the cheap wine, her breath said she’d been living outside for years. If I had to guess, she’d not been to the dentist in years, maybe even a decade. The sun turned her skin into a brown, leather look, complete with wrinkles of a life lived hard on the streets. “No, I thought not, kiddo. You people. All you do is look down your noses at us,” she pointed her thumb into her chest. “But we take care of each other, best we can. Not all of us is together here,” she pointed to her grey head of hair, “what we lack in mental faculties we make up for in our community. Bob? He was a good dude. So I can’t quite figure out why you stopped today, kiddo? What is it you figure you’ll gain hanging out downtown with all of us,” she gestured wildly around to a few of the other street people.

“Maggie,” I started to say, realizing I wasn’t sure if that was her name or just something the other street people called her. For all I knew, their culture only called people by street names. “Can I call you Maggie?”

She squinted at me, shielding her eyes from the sun, “Boy. Call me whatever you like. Give me ten bucks.” Her hand was out, waiting for the expected cash donation from me. I knew better than to pull out a wad of cash on Broadway and First, so I pulled out the first bill I found. Lucky me. I checked it in my palm before I gave it to her; it was a fifty. I crumpled it up and shook her hand.

“No. Five,” I said, knowing Maggie would look at the bill later, long after I left. She’d know the feel of cold, hard cash well enough. She’d know by the feel that it was real U.S. currency. Maggie tucked the bill under her shirt into her bra.

“Fine by me, kid.”

“Maggie, why do people not notice you?” I wanted an answer. But would Maggie be willing to give me one? Or would she even know the answer?

“Because.” She took another drink, sending her into a coughing fit. “They don’t want to,” she choked. “Which is why I’m wondering, kiddo. Why the hell did you stop? You think you can rescue me? Think you and your,” her fingers waved up and down my suit, “materialism, can save us all?”

I shook my head no.

“So be on your way. Keep passing us by, and if, on occasion, you’d like to throw us your leftovers, we’ll graciously accept it,” she winked. “We gonna celebrate Hank’s life later today if you want to join us. He was one of the good ones, Hank was.” Maggie took another drink, then tipped the bottle upside down, a droplet spilling on the sidewalk. “Damn. Empty.” She pitched the bottle over her shoulder, landing the shopping cart behind her.

“Two points!” another woman sitting nearby cheered. “Maggie, you should try out for the Blazers! Make a great point guard, don’t you think, suit?” she addressed me.

“Oh, you hush, now Sara Lee,” Maggie blushed. “Ain’t no one got time for that, least of all me.”

“Didjaknow Mags was a bank auditor for Bank of America, wasn’t it Maggie?”

“Hush, Sara Lee!” Maggie hissed.

“Yep. We’s all pretty lucky Mags is out here with us. Takes good care of our collective moneys. Makes sure everyone has more than enough to eat, especially when winter rolls around. Not all of us make it into the shelters.”

“Hush, Sara Lee. That’s enough outta you. You shut your trap before I make you shut it!”

Sara Lee smiled, showing me her few remaining rotting teeth.

“They don’t wanna notice us. And if’in they did? What would they do to help? Throw money at us? Get us employed? Get us permanent housing? And take away our freedom!” Maggie’s voice carried down the street. Her hoarse voice almost sounded like Mel Gibson’s in Braveheart. “Come back if you want to see us celebrate Hank’s life. If not, keep on driving. We’ll still be here unless we expire like Hank.”

“I’ll be back, Maggie. Is there anything I can bring for your commune?”

Maggie squinted at me. “You sure you wanna do that, smart guy?”

“I figure if you don’t get it from me, you’ll steal it, right?”

“Not me,” she protested. “I don’t steal. Hank didn’t, neither. He was a decent guy, Hank.” Maggie sobbed softly, a few tears spilling down her weatherbeaten cheeks. “I miss that little dog of his.” She was quiet for a minute. “Toiletries. You know? Toothbrushes. Shampoo. Conditioner. Body wash or soap. Either way. Clean towels. Secondhand clothes, jackets, hats, gloves, boots, shoes. Not too nice. Otherwise, people look at us funny when we ask them for stuff, get it?”

“Give me two hours, and I’ll be back, Maggie, with everything you’ve requested.”

“I don’t suppose you’d,” she pointed to the liquor store on the corner.

“We’ll see Maggie. First things first. Let me come back, and you be ready. Deal?”

Maggie nodded. “See ya in two hours, suit boy.”

“Jamie Kraften,” I held my hand for her to shake it, but she glared at me.

“Jamie, you think I’m gonna touch that hand?”

“You did a minute ago, remember?”

She squinted. “Go on! Get out of here. We’ll still be here unless the police run us off again. Seems to be the only thing they’ve been doin’ with their time downtown lately.”

“Okay. Bye, Maggie.”

(To be continued . . .)