His name is Bill. Say's he's "a half-breed native American". He had been paying for his father's house. After his father died, Bill lost the house. For a while, he lived in a truck and camper. But -- sometime in the last year -- he had to sell the truck and camper.Bill told me all this as I filled his "coffee cup" (actually a square, white plastic jar minus the lid) with some freshly-brewed Starbucks French Roast. We were standing outside his tent in the 31-degree pre-dawn darkness. That's unusually cold for south Florida in a typical January...but it's been this way for the past week. "Normal" temperatures won't return for another few days.
About a year ago, while my house (travel trailer) was parked near my mother's home in Stuart, Florida, a man approached me and asked if I could spare a dollar or two so that he could get a bite to eat. He told me that he was living in the woods behind the nearby Publix supermarket, and that he had a job interview to go on that morning. Although he looked fairly clean and well-groomed for a homeless man, he seemed sincere, so I gave him some money and wished him the best. I also told him to stop by again if he needed anything. (For whatever reason, he never came back. I hope he got the job.)
A few minutes later I decided to bag up some food -- mostly non-perishable -- and try to find the place where the man was camped. Near Publix (although not behind it) I followed a path leading into the woods. At the end of the path were 3 or 4 tents.
Standing in the middle of the "camp", I hollered out the man's name. (I don't remember his name today, but I wish I did.)
From one of the tents a man growled, "What do you want?"
"I'm looking for [whatever his name was]."
"He don't stay here!"
"I met him, and he told me he lived out here."
"Well, he left a couple of days ago." Now the speaker's face appeared at the opening of his pup-tent. Although it was a bright, warm Florida morning -- almost noon, in fact -- I had obviously awakened the man. He was not clean, nor well-groomed. In fact, it appeared that he was sleeping off the previous night's bottled self-medication.
As the man watched me warily, I stepped to within 20 feet of the pup-tent and placed the bag of food on the ground. "I brought this food for [whatever his name was]. But there's plenty. Help yourself to whatever you want." And I left.
Now, exactly a year later, we're again parked near Mom's house for the winter. A week or so ago, when the weather turned cold, I checked the woods near Publix to see if the "camp" was being used. In addition to one tent and a fabricated plastic-tarp shelter, there was evidence of a recent campfire.
A couple of days ago, Brenda told me that she had spotted some wood that someone had put out to be hauled off with the trash. We visited the "camp" again. No one seemed to be "at home", but there was plenty of evidence (including a bicycle) that the camp was being used. So, we found the wood (a recently-cut pine tree and something that resembled a pallet made of 2x6s), loaded it onto the truck, drove as far down the "camp path" as we could go, and deposited the wood by the trail.
This morning I was up before 4:30 (as usual), killing time on the computer. Our overnight temps had dipped below freezing again, and I thought about the people who might be sleeping outside in tents. According to WPTV, the West Palm Beach NBC affiliate:
So...the shelters aren't open when it's below 40 for 4 hours or less??? How do the homeless know what the forecast is for tonight? When the shelters are open, how many are sleeping outside anyway?
Suddenly I realized that I could do more than just wonder. I brewed a pot of coffee, poured it into a couple of stainless-steel Starbucks thermoses, and drove to the "camp" with the coffee and a flashlight.
As soon as I got there, I noticed that the wood was gone from alongside the trail. After walking on back to the camp I saw that some of it was stacked near the campfire spot, ready to be used. Among other items on a makeshift table, I noticed a corkscrew.
The end of the tarp shelter was open, so it was easy to shine the light inside. No one was there. As I shone my light around the rest of the camp, a man's voice came from the tent. "Who is it???"
"I brought some hot coffee, if you're interested. I left the wood a couple of days ago. I'm glad you could use it."
"Yeah! Some of that stuff was really good wood...from Australia!"
From inside the tent he told me that, no, he wasn't cold; he slept under 6 blankets. But that he would appreciate the coffee. I heard him getting dressed.
I asked him how many people were in the "camp".
"Just me."
I told him that I thought several people had stayed here last winter.
"I won't let 'em. All they wanna do is drink."
"Are you hungry? We can go over to McDonalds for a dollar breakfast sandwich...my treat." (It was 6:30, so I knew the McDonalds -- just a block away -- was open.)
"Naw...I'm okay."
As he emerged from his tent, I lit my face with my flashlight so that he could get a look at me. I asked him if he had camped here last winter. "No," he said. That's when he told me that he was living in the truck and camper last winter, after his father had died and he had lost the house.
As I filled his jar with the contents of one thermos, Bill pointed to a nearby tree. "Them pepper trees are from Brazil."
"If you like, Bill, I'll leave this other thermos with you. It will keep the coffee in it hot for hours. I'll drop by later today to pick it up. You can leave it on the table, or -- if you're worried it will be taken -- you can put it somewhere else."
Bill set the thermos inside the door of his tent, just to the right of the opening. "I'll leave it right here. Thanks."
Suddenly I realized that I could do more than just wonder. I brewed a pot of coffee, poured it into a couple of stainless-steel Starbucks thermoses, and drove to the "camp" with the coffee and a flashlight.
As soon as I got there, I noticed that the wood was gone from alongside the trail. After walking on back to the camp I saw that some of it was stacked near the campfire spot, ready to be used. Among other items on a makeshift table, I noticed a corkscrew.
The end of the tarp shelter was open, so it was easy to shine the light inside. No one was there. As I shone my light around the rest of the camp, a man's voice came from the tent. "Who is it???"
"I brought some hot coffee, if you're interested. I left the wood a couple of days ago. I'm glad you could use it."
"Yeah! Some of that stuff was really good wood...from Australia!"
From inside the tent he told me that, no, he wasn't cold; he slept under 6 blankets. But that he would appreciate the coffee. I heard him getting dressed.
I asked him how many people were in the "camp".
"Just me."
I told him that I thought several people had stayed here last winter.
"I won't let 'em. All they wanna do is drink."
"Are you hungry? We can go over to McDonalds for a dollar breakfast sandwich...my treat." (It was 6:30, so I knew the McDonalds -- just a block away -- was open.)
"Naw...I'm okay."
As he emerged from his tent, I lit my face with my flashlight so that he could get a look at me. I asked him if he had camped here last winter. "No," he said. That's when he told me that he was living in the truck and camper last winter, after his father had died and he had lost the house.
As I filled his jar with the contents of one thermos, Bill pointed to a nearby tree. "Them pepper trees are from Brazil."
"If you like, Bill, I'll leave this other thermos with you. It will keep the coffee in it hot for hours. I'll drop by later today to pick it up. You can leave it on the table, or -- if you're worried it will be taken -- you can put it somewhere else."
Bill set the thermos inside the door of his tent, just to the right of the opening. "I'll leave it right here. Thanks."
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