Sun Tan Homeless Man

Not too long ago, a new homeless man moved into the neighborhood. He's his 20s or 30s, long blonde hair, bearded, solemn. He vaguely reminds me of the blue-eyed, long blonde hair, solemn Jesus from my coloring books in Vacation Bible School back in the early 70s.

Whenever I am out and about, whenever the sun puts in an appearance, there he is. I've seen him a dozen times or more sitting on a sidewalk or parking lot, leaning against the wall of a commercial building, with the sun shining directly on his face.

The man is always positioned perfectly to catch the full rays in the face.

Once he sat in front of a pharmacy that I entered. When I left the pharmacy ten minutes later he had moved across the street to sit in front of a tattoo shop because the illumination had shifted and created a new excellent spot to soak up the sun.

The man never wears sunglasses or a hat. His eyes are always closed. Sometimes, he's smoking a cigarette or drinking a coffee. He has never moved during my observations.

He carries one small backpack and a tightly wound garbage bag. He evinces nothing indicative of the fentanyl types roaming through busy intersections or screaming at power poles. He comes across almost stoic to me.

If I ever were to become homeless, I would adopt stoicism to survive.

I've never interacted with the man or seen him interact with anyone, although people pass by him all the time.

If it's overcast, he's never around.

His tanning habit, if that's what it really is, intrigues me. He has a serious and interesting face. There is something behind it. I want to meet him, but I have no idea how to broach a conversation without it sounding dumb or having him open his eyes and see the maniacal husky Elmer a few feet away.

Maybe a gift of sunscreen? Bottle of water or power bar?

I might be overthinking it. Just maybe ask how he's doing?