Looking at the menu I decided on the Greek Omelet; Greek olives, mushrooms, onions and spinach. Along with the omelet came country potatoes and toast. My wife decided on a bowl of grits.
While waiting for our breakfast we looked out the large glass window, from our booth, as the early morning sun highlighted the trees that lined the sidewalk across the street.
The waitress brought our food, which looked and tasted great. As I was putting grape jelly on the last piece of my whole wheat toast my wife, looking out the window, said, “I want to give that man some money.”
As I looked I saw the man she was talking about: walking with a slight limp, the sleeping bag the man was carrying was not in a bag, but drooped over his shoulder and partially dragged on the sidewalk as he slowly made his way along.
I said, “I don’t think we should give money to him. That’s not a good idea.”
Neither my wife or I usually give money to homeless strangers. But my wife said she was impressed to give the man a couple of bucks, and asked if I minded if she did. I thought for a minute and said I’d give him money, that she should go ahead and continue on her way. We had come in two cars.
I got in my car as I needed to drive around the block since it was a one way street. The man was now a short distance down the street. I drove up near him with my window down.
“Excuse me, sir,” I said as my car came to a stop next to him.
He heard me and walked over to my passenger window. The torn sleeping bag over his shoulder partially hid his tattered, well-worn shirt. In his mouth was an unlit crushed half-smoked cigarette. The wrinkles on his face revealed he was not a young man. As he started to talk his parted lips revealed some teeth that had not seen a dentist for a long time, if ever.
The other teeth were missing, but as his eyes met mine his face almost glowed with a soft, almost angelic, smile. “Yes sir,” he said.
“I don’t usually do this, but here is some money for you,” I said.
He looked at the three dollars in my hand as I gave him the money. The next words he said I will never forget.
Thank you, that’s all I need.
What a statement. What did I need? For sure three dollars would not take care of it. Wow, I had just given him all he needed. It really has made me think: What do I need?
Reflecting on this encounter I have asked myself again and again, what did the man mean by that’s all I need.
Was it he only needed someone who cared? Maybe he had money. Most people would pay no attention to him; I know that is what I would usually do.
My wife was right. He needed whatever it was we provided that morning.
Paul grew up in Los Angeles. At age 12 a neighbor took Paul camping and hiking near the Trinity River. The adventure experience of being in nature, walking a trail in anticipation of what was around the next bend and what was over the next ridge left memories that have lasted a lifetime. In 1987 Paul formed a business partnership with Fred Bergstrom, the purpose of which was to develop residential neighborhoods in Redding. Paul’s experience as a land surveyor and timber access road builder, together with Fred’s experience as a real estate broker and builder, formed a partnership that has lasted 27 years. Paul accepts the critics comments that cast him as one who simply moves in with huge bulldozers killing trees, brush, animal habitat and moving mountains of dirt. He juxtaposes their comments with his desire to build neighborhoods with quality homes, open space and walking trails.
