Not many men beg on the part of Queen East where we live. There just isn’t enough pedestrian traffic to make it worthwhile. There are no office buildings or primary employment hubs about so if you’re wandering around during the day it usually means that you have nothing better to do, and if you happen upon somebody sitting out on the sidewalk with a hat in front of them, then they’re likely to have just run out of ideas. It’s as if they just got tired, decided to plop down, take off their hat and see what happens. I passed one such man on Sunday while I was out walking the dog. He certainly didn’t expect anything from me and made no effort to make eye contact, but he reached out to pet Heidi, our Miniature Dachshund. This startled her and she jumped away, his outstretched hand left to pass through the empty air, one more thing that hadn’t gone right.
I pulled the dog closer to him and introduced her. The man smiled and tilted his head, rubbing her behind her ears. He did this for about 20 seconds and then looked up at me, “ Thanks, you know there’s something in a Sunday that makes a body feel alone, and that, that helped”– a Kris Kristofferson lyric manifest in the flesh.
Turning north at the intersection and heading up the street, we passed the Broadview Gospel Hall. Slowly rising up the steps, stepping both feet onto each one at a time, was an elderly couple. They could well have been in their 90’s, and holding hands, the woman led the man, both of them dressed in their Sunday best. Who knows how long they’d been going to that church, how many years she’d proudly worn that same Sunday bonnet, or how long they’d keep holding hands?