A Hero

He always walks past me, going the other way: unkempt, dirty, bearded, matted hair, talking to himself.

Two days ago I saw him again. He no longer had the remnants of his old coat with him. It had fallen apart over the past two years or so. Somehow, someone helped him get a new coat. Not that what he was wearing was new, by any means.

I first noticed him about three and a half or four years ago. He was pushing himself in a wheelchair backwards up the sidewalk towards me. I only saw him when I was on my way to the bus stop. I was always in a bit of a time crunch, trying to make my commuter connections.

The spirit always suggested that I give him a push. But he was ALWAYS going the opposite direction than I was and I had a bus to catch.

No excuse.

When I fail to act on impressions the spirit sends me, my life changes.

Every few weeks I would see him, pushing with his good leg, working his way to where ever he was going, steadily, slowly, with concentrated effort. Wind, rain, sleet, slush, snow, he kept on his journey.

As the seasons passed, I noticed that he eventually got crutches. His shoes wore out. His coat became tatters. His progress seemed slower with the crutches than with his one-legged backward pushing of the wheelchair. No longer did I receive promptings to help push him along.

Whatever was wrong with his leg is healed. He is walking, unassisted, now.

He is in a constant state of communication with people I can't see. I am positive that he has never seen me. Always talking, gesturing, eyes focused elsewhere.

Regularly I wonder how I could ever break into his sphere of concentration, to offer him my old over coat, or a new pair of shoes. I've tried to catch his eye with a smile as we pass each other on the sidewalk. He is always focused on things that I'm not seeing.

Salt Lake is a city of compassion. There are folks spread around the city center every day asking for help from passersby. If they ask, they get help: food, coin, folding money, clothes, shelter.

I have never seen him with his hand out. Ever.

My esteem for him has grown over the years: his dogged determination to get where ever it is he goes; his concentration; his focus; his complete and utter disregard of the world around him; his apparent independence.

I wonder what I have missed.