Attention all DKos members in the San Francisco and New Orleans areas!
Although this is my first post, I have been a long-time member of the DailyKos community. It is the rare day that I don't check in and find myself inspired, uplifted, outraged, or challenged by the words of so many inspired writers and progressive activists. I am posting today in the hopes that members of the DailyKos family can unite to reunite a man with his own family. I hope someone can help. In fact, I'm counting on it. (Please recommend to get the word out.)
My dearest friend in the world, Liz, a sassy Cajun woman from Lafayette, Louisiana, was in San Francisco last week enjoying a well deserved vacation. She and her husband found themselves one afternoon walking around Union Square when she noticed him...a man from Louisiana who, it was clear, had seen better times. She did what most people would not...she stopped, introduced herself, and asked him to tell her a little about himself. She hasn't been able to stop thinking about him since.
Follow me over the jump for her story...and his.
Liz and I speak to each other at least 3 or 4 times a day. Tonight, during a regular IM exchange, she told me about the man she met in San Francisco during her last day in the beautiful City by the Bay. Here is the heartbreaking story:
I’ve just returned from a wonderful week in the San Francisco Bay area that I spent in awe of the scenery and weather. You see, I’m from Louisiana and the need for a coat in late July is foreign to me, just as cliffs and beautiful sea-green water are also not something to which I’m accustomed.
Of the great memories I took home, the one that has haunted me almost non-stop since my return is not one of the scenery, good food and great wine. Instead it is the memory of a conversation I had with a homeless man. Here’s my story. Maybe someone can help.
My husband and I were walking in front of the stores at Union Square in San Francisco, not far from The Gold Dust Lounge and right in front of Macy’s. We passed a homeless man. I noticed him as I approached because he was fairly clean and he didn’t have the same "look" as the others I’d seen throughout town over the past 2 days. He was familiar looking, in an odd way. His head was hung down low, presumably so that he wouldn’t have to make eye contact with the passersby. His driver’s license was paper clipped to the sign. As I passed him I noticed that he was from Louisiana; Belle Rose according to his driver’s license. I walked a couple more steps, stopped dead in my tracks and asked my husband for money. I turned around and walked up to the man, whose eyes were still focused downward, and said, "Hi. I’m from Lafayette." He looked up at me with crystal-clear, brownish-blue eyes. I handed him some money. He smiled a bit and whispered "God bless you." I then asked about him.
He told me that he was living in Port Sulphur, Louisiana when Katrina hit. He evacuated, became homeless and was relocated to San Francisco. He said that it wasn’t so bad at first. He had a little job for a while and with the housing money he was getting from FEMA he was able to afford a small apartment in San Francisco. However, when the housing allowance ended, he wasn’t able to keep the apartment and has been living on the street for the past few weeks. I asked if he’d tried to get home, and he said he didn’t have the money for air fare or bus fare. I asked if he had family who could help and he told me that his elderly mother, who is still living in Louisiana, is the only family he has. I told him that through my job I thought I could get him home and asked if there was anyway that I could contact him once I returned to Louisiana. He said he no longer had a cell phone...no longer was working...and had no way for me to call him and no address to which I could write. A voice in my head prevented me from giving him my contact info. We said our goodbyes. My husband and I walked off. I felt bad for a long time. I wished I hadn’t listened to that untrusting voice this time.
Hours later I found myself on a double-decker tourist bus stopped in front of Macy’s at Union Square. I noticed him....but in a different spot this time. He was sitting on the steps of Union Park. He wasn’t talking to himself like the others who reside at his address. He was eating a sandwich from a clear plastic container. It was obvious it was a sandwich he had purchased. He was drinking a hot cup of coffee. He was enjoying his meal. I wanted to get off the bus to say goodbye and to give him my contact info, but it was the last bus of the day and the bus was pulling away as I spotted him. I stood and watched him until the bus turned the corner, hoping that he would look my way so I could wave goodbye. But he didn’t look up. He didn’t look my way. I felt a little better that he was using the money he’d earned that day to buy himself a sandwich instead of alcohol and cigarettes like most of the others who were beginning to bed down there for the evening. I felt a little better that at least he didn’t have to go to sleep with an empty stomach.
Eventually the San Fran man faded from my sight, but I cannot get him out of my mind. I know that if I could find him, I could get him home to Louisiana, if that is what he desires.
Here is a picture of me and my San Francisco man. I can't even remember if he told me his name, but right now that doesn't matter. I wonder if some good person out there can help me find him.
My best friend works at a university and has contacts throughout the state of Louisiana. There are so many good people there who we both know would be willing to bring this man back to the state...back to his mother...and back to the place he knows as home.
If anyone happens to find themselves in Union Square and sees this man, please take a few moments, get his name and direct him to a social service agency that would be willing to contact me for help. I will reconnect him with Liz. Perhaps together we can make a difference for one man.
Thank you for reading this post (and please forgive me if I didn't upload the photo correctly...first time trying).