In the last week of July I had an opportunity to work in YaleTown. At the end of the first day I decided to roam the streets. Walking through the blocks systematically eventually led me to the outskirts of park where I was being entertained by a man with a shopping cart filled with various things. I was laughing because he was clearly struggling with a cart missing two front wheels. It was comical, until our eyes met.
The man, whose name is Julian, has the scatterbrained pace of wind storm. I asked him jokingly if he needed help. He skitted left to right, back and forth, while asking if I could watch his stuff. I was a little skeptical and asked why. Julian said that he was meeting his brother at the other corner of the park; in contradiction to the direction he was headed. I laughed again and asked if I could just help carry his stuff with him to the corner of the park. He agreed.
In fact, he was ecstatic. His eyes went wide and quickly started stuffing things into my hands. We walked for a minute or two as he explained to me his situation. I found out that both of his parents had passed away and that he slipped into a depression that brought him to the streets. With tears in his eyes he explained that "it's hard work being homeless. Everyone has to work to live."
His point resonated with me. Doesn't matter how you live; you'll need to work. In fact, I think I would be hard pressed to find a homeless person that lived a relax, leisurely life that some people seemingly claim they do. They probably work as hard, if not harder, than most people I know. They tend to have more interesting life stories, and deeper sense of character than most people I meet as well. I'm sure it's linked the struggle/trauma/illnesses/etc that brought them to the street. But, some people are just boring and I like a good story.
By now we've made it to our destination and I put his stuff onto the bench as he ran on back to get the rest of his things. While he was gone I noticed a picture of a dog. The picture was his and when he came back he noticed I was admiring it. He told me that he had created the picture. The background was painted and the pixelated effect was done with markers (you can see it below). Julian explained to me that art is how he made money to buy food. He asked if I would be interested in buying it for ten dollars explaining to me that he normally sells them for twenty. I said sure. The picture had enough of a story behind that it made sense. So, he signed it and I left.
I've had a few conversations with people that are homeless now. However, meeting Julian had one of the more humanizing effects on me. They're just people after all and the stories are as diverse as the individuals that tell them. I had met another downtown Victoria a couple months ago named Frodo by other people on the street. He was another hobo artist that did realist paintings. I never bought his painting and haven't seen him since. I'll have to do a short story on him as well. Have you talked with anyone that was homeless? What was your experience?
