Washington Avenue

12/01

Cold nights on Washington Avenue are pretty bleak. There's a homeless man, a middle aged black guy who calls himself Vern. It's sad to see him in the winter. He's only wearing a hooded sweat-shirt whenever I see him, and his pants are always falling. His bottom is always showing, it's sad. Washington Ave. is on a hill, it catches all of the wind.

Vern's always chasing cars down the road. Stomping on cars when he comes across them, ending the chase before it begins. He doesn't ever ask for money he just walks around with a garbage bag, collecting cans, pulling up his pants. He never talks to anyone. Except one day in the winter I finally asked him if he'd like a coffee. He said no, that caffeinne is bad for you. I was a little awed by this and asked him if there was anything he would like; he wanted a sandwich.

We sat in The Grill for a couple of hours, talking. That's how I learned his name. He used to have a family some where in a tiny town in Georgia. He lost his job at the factory, where he made boxes, the kind they sell bottles of aspirin in. Laid off. His wife and daughter couldn't make enough to pay for their mortgage, modest as it was.

One night Vern left. He found out his wife had been seeing another man since he was laid off. He wasn't angry, suprisingly. He left so she could marry the other man. Vern considered himself unfit to be a husband. He couldn't support his family and this other man could. For Vern it was a matter of practicality not emotion. Let the new man take over and just get out of the way. Or fight for his wife and everyone would be out on the streets.

He took a bus to Athens, the closest "city" to his home town and here he's been. It's almost five years since he left. Vern doesn't know what his family is doing or where they are - but he's satisfied in knowing that he left them in capable hands and he was not the cause of their demise.

He still ambles along here. I see him every once in a while. Whenever winter comes along I remember him and I start to worry. Sometimes he lets me take him out for a sandwich and a de-caf coffee. Other times he's busy - on to a good can collecting lead. I gave him an old jacket once, from my dad. Vern said it'd be perfect for his friend, another homeless man in Athens. I've never seen Vern wear it. Winters in Athens can be pretty harsh and Washington Ave. turns grey and stoney in the cold.