Marvin

A light snow fell. I watched it from inside a coffee shop across the street from Dad's assisted living center. Elmer the husky was snoozing in the car, doubtless dreaming of ways to make more mischief in my life.

The front door rattled open. An elderly man with long hair entered using a walker while wearing a bulging backpack over a neon green safety jacket. I recognized him as Marvin, a homeless man from the neighborhood who often drinks a coffee and eats a baked good in the mornings, typically courtesy of staff or a patron. He's a quiet man, polite, and usually sits alone in the corner and stares straight ahead. I have never seem him with a phone.

The last time I observed him, he didn't use a walker.

Marvin walked himself to the right of me and down an incline to an area where two men drank coffee and talked. They exuded the appearance of retired, well-to-do men from the neighborhood.

As soon as they saw Marvin they bolted up, greeted him, and moved into action. One man invited Marvin to join them; the other helped him remove the backpack. They took his coffee and baked goods order and one of the men hurried to the counter to place it. He returned a minute later and the three men began talking. I eavesdropped from above them, but didn't catch much except Marvin answering the question: where are you sleeping in the cold? “Anywhere I can.”

A barista announced the coffee and baked good order was ready. One of the men bounded off the couch to retrieve it. He brought it to Marvin. Marvin thanked him, slung the backpack over the walker, rigged up the coffee and baked good (a muffin, I think) for transport and wheeled himself to his usual corner of the coffee shop. He sat down, extricated the coffee and baked good, and began drinking and eating by himself.

It was time for me to go. I stood up and said to the two men, “I saw what you did for Marvin. Your act of kindness really got to me. Thank you for doing it. I notice these things.”

One of the men said, “Thank you. We've known Marvin for a while.”

I left. The snow was picking up. So was the cold. One of the men made eye contact with me through the glass and nodded. We were of the same mind. There are millions of us helping or wanting to help the homeless. How can our massive but independent, uncoordinated caring better be harnessed? How can we do more than coffee and a muffin? Sure, it's a start, but we must go deeper and begin more structural efforts.

Where is the leadership to guide us?