View from the bridge

This isn't new and many of you may have seen it already but because of the subject matter here of late, I went looking for it. It's a golden piece of work (which may explain why PBS has it). NeedCom Market Research for Panhandlers.

The photo above is the view from what I've been calling Steve's bridge. Beyond the pair of white doves, he has two vivid recollections about working the bridge. One is when a woman gave him money and then jumped his case about using the word God on his sign, and the other is the time a man in a suit and tie got out of his car and asked to pray for him. Steve said it was fine and afterward, the man gave him forty dollars. He tells both of these stories, but always returns to the woman who lectured him.
I just can't believe there are people who get offended by a blessing from God, he'll say.

Christmas window

Unfortunately, sometimes the best picture is completely out of focus. I didn't find the woodcarvers yesterday but I did run up on this scene, where a homeless man does his first bit of Christmas decorating in twenty years. What a production. The first thing that happened was that Barney pulled the rope on that crusty set of blinds in his window and the whole shebang broke out of the brackets. I wasn't there for that part but he marched up to the office and demanded that new ones be installed immediately, which of course, didn't work.

He spent another hour talking about how he was going to have to lie there all weekend, buck naked, in front of the window and did I want to get a picture of that. Eventually, he and Steve hung the lights with little trouble and made a curtain out of wrapping paper, in order to spare his neighbors the unrepentant view. Once it was all finished the two of them went outside and declared it the best decorated window on the street

Barney's Christmas tree

Just fifteen minutes after I posted last, there was word on the voicemail that Steve was summarily evicted from the van. Not unusual. Sources said he was up at the bridge but there was someone else working that corner when I got there so I checked at Barney's and there he was still feeling, and looking, a little better. He's decided to stay there for a few days and rest up. When I left the two of them (around 5:30 p.m. yesterday) they were planning to string blue Christmas lights around the window. I probably should've stayed for that.

Photographers will want to know that Slate and Magnum have partnered to bring us regular online interactive feature stories (everybody say ooooh baby). The introduction is here. Don't know if it's my browser or a bug but the sound was sketchy or missing in some places. Regardless, the stories couldn't be better.

Lunch in the van

Back to the street

How many days has it been? Five?
Steve left Barney's apartment yesterday morning. In his newfound responsibility, Barney set about cleaning up the room some. He didn't worry too much because he knew Steve was only going as far as the parking lot next door. It was Sunday which meant no liquor sales.

Then along in the cleaning, Barney ran across Steve's dirty clothes which he had wadded up, and put behind a door. Mind you, these aren't what average people think of as dirty clothes. They're the clothes of a sick, homeless, alcoholic man. Barney then proceeded to have what Steve called a tizzy fit. He came storming up to the bar and told him that if he couldn't keep himself clean then he wasn't invited to come back. Period. Understand he did this, believing it would give his friend a kick in the pants. It didn't work of course, and Steve spent the last thirty-six hours, in the van; a day and a half without medicine.

He said it was just as warm there as it was at Barney's and that in a day or two, he'd go on back over and try again. Then he offered me half of a turkey sandwich and some Ritz crackers. I took the crackers and told him that some people had mean-mouthed him on the internet.

He seemed a little shocked at first but I added that there were others, who had kindly, risen to his defense. No response. We had a long conversation about his stay at the hospital. I noticed the congestion in his voice. Congestion that wasn't there on Saturday and fully three conversations later, he asked if there was any way I could write a note and tell those people thanks. I said I would and left him there, sitting in the van.

Some place to go

Last night there was a message on my phone from Barney. His is the apartment where I last left Steve. For descriptive purposes, I should mention that it's a motel room. He said in the message that Steve's visiting privileges had been extended beyond the three days. This is good news but before any of you doctors out there start to feel vindicated, I should add that Barney suffers from his own brand of chronic alcoholism. He has a perpetual half gallon of vodka, by the side of his bed. He also has a gigantic heart and has taken Steve in many times, over the last year and, in spite of the fact that people threaten to wring his neck occasionally, he makes for a truly genuine friend.