It is spring here in Los Angeles. I have vowed to pick up my camera each day and look for inspiration. This morning I noticed my dirty window. - I shot a series of six. This is my favorite.
Over the years I have fed many hungry people. I feel obligated to feed people, it is a moral compass issue for me. It is right to feed hungry people, so I do so every time I can.
A few weeks ago I had another opportunity to feed someone, but somehow I could not bring myself to tell the story to anyone because I was troubled by the event. I had bought breakfast for myself at a local drive thru chain. It was a large protein meal, no carbs at all, one of my favorite meals. As I pulled away from the drive thru attendant, a shaggy homeless man walked in front of my tuck. He put a grubby hand on the corner of my truck near the headlight to stop me. He said "I am hungry". He did not ask for money, nor did he approach any closer than the front of my truck. He just stood still looked at me.
He was dirty and had skin that was a sun darkened brown. Like the skin of an old beach bum. He was dressed in layers, at least six or seven layers of different types of clothing. He had a plastic poncho draped over his shoulders and head with a rope for a belt. I could only see his face. He did not smile or frown, he just looked me directly in the eye and waited. After a few seconds, I reached for my breakfast. I handed it through the window along with my Diet Coke as I said "here, eat this". He moved slowly over to my window and took the food. When he was close enough to touch me, he spoke "Thank you Joseph", and then walked away.
He knew me. I tried to talk to him. He wanted non of it. He stomped into the roadside bushes and moved away at a steady pace. In a city of millions, a hungry man knew me. It bothered me. Heck, it still bothers me.