Miguel (Part 1)

A young homeless man dressed head to toe in black hunted through a bin of donated foot items in the lobby of the Milwaukie Public Library in Clackamas County, right on the edge of Portland.

He blocked my exit out into rain and temperatures in the high 30s on the last day of December. It was two or so in the afternoon.

I waited as he gripped a jar of peanut butter.

The man turned around. His face showed bruises and scratches and I recognized him as someone I had interacted with several times the past two years and once tried unsuccessfully to assist into housing. At the time he was addled or merely out of it from the deprivation that I assumed came from living outdoors. He was a skateboarder who rode all around the neighborhood with extreme abandon. I didn't remember his name.

“Hey,” I said. “how are you?”

He looked at me but nothing of recognition registered in his face.

“I'm trying to get my SSI deposit on the first,” he said.

I didn't know what to say so I didn't say anything.

“I really want to get off the streets,” he said staring right at me.

It was a call to action.

I asked him if he remembered our previous effort to get him housed.

He did not. I said I might be able to assist him if we chose Multnomah County and City of Portland's programs because I was familiar with them, particularly the Safe Rest Village housing option.

He said he didn't know what that was.

What ensued was a confusing five-minute conversation where he indicated he had no idea he was in Clackamas County and didn't know anything about housing options in Portland.

I took a break from the conversation and asked him the whereabouts of his skateboard.

“I don't have a skateboard,” he said.

He then pulled off his stocking cap to reveal a shaved head.

“Don't you remember me, Matt” he said.

A thunderbolt struck me. He was not the skateboard kid. He was the kid from the street ministry in Oregon City where I volunteered two years ago but eventually stopped after my father went into assisted living.

I had forgotten his name. How in the world had he remembered mine?

“I'm Miguel,” he said.

“Yeah,” I said, “I remember you now.”

We shook hands and it all came back to me.