There’s a homeless man who I see frequently on my way home from work. He’s usually very composed and has a calm demeanor. Today he was different and by my standards, out of character. He was rowdy, disorderly and aggressive. As I rode up beside him in my Uber, he was standing uncomfortably close to a woman’s window, shouting obscenities and moving his body in a sexually suggestive manner. I was shocked. This couldn’t be the same man I thought I knew. I assumed he was homeless because whenever I saw him, he held a cup and moved from car to car asking for money. Today, for the first time, I wondered if that cup had alcohol in it. Maybe he wasn’t even homeless. Everything I thought I knew about him was shaken.
It was surreal to watch him behave in that manner. Instead of feeling a part of his experience as I usually did, I felt like a spectator, watching from a safe distance.
I had higher expectations. In a way I was let down. But who am I to be disappointed in him? I don’t actually know him. I imagine if I were homeless, I’d have my share of ‘out of character’ days. As the light changed and we drove past my friend, I felt a sadness come over me. I was sad he behaved the way he did, but more than that, I was sad he was always on that corner; I wondered how he got there and if he would ever escape it.
P.S. If you’re wondering about the significance of the title of this post, listen to “Mr. Wendall” by Arrested Development.
itsmeashli.com 
As soon as I saw your title I began to laugh because it stirred up my memories of you as a child and the love of music you and your dad shared as you were driven to school. You love that song and would always get sad as you listened. Loved this one Ash!
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