BABE, I'M GONNA LEAVE YOU

       Stepping out to go home, after the morning fun, I heard sweet melodic picking on a guitar, and a man singing. I turned back to see. He was sitting with the smokers on the pre-release side of the building, and they were all drawn in by his gift.

       He wasn't "one of us." He looked to be a street dweller, and as he played, I studied him from head to toe—knitted cap, bright blue eyes, decaying bottom teeth, a modest blonde and gray beard bound with a rubber band. His thick black sweater hangs long. His guitar is well worn, but it has a rich sound, and the strings hug the neck just right. His fingers moved gracefully from note to note. His nails need a good scrubbing. The dark green pants appear clean but stained, and his sparkling white socks peep out from sturdy brown suede shoes.

       Most of all, he sang and he played with conviction—Led Zeppelin's "Babe, I'm Gonna Leave You." I've never admitted to most of you that my brain is a celebrity desert, so while I've heard the name Led Zeppelin, I had no idea what songs he may have done. To me, this homeless man was the author of that song. He was wearing the words; he was living them, and he gifted me with a piece of himself that I will always treasure.

       But arriving… Joey and I were both late to work, though it didn't matter at all! He and Mr. Huggy had put together some soup yesterday, and it was the most unusual-looking brew I've seen in our soup pot. Joey had the pot filled to the top, too! This recipe incorporated broiled chicken, three kinds of green beans, various dried beans, rice, carrots, potatoes, limas, corn, chicken broth, and peas. It had a greenish cast and looked sumptuous!

       I brushed melted butter over 100 slices of French bread, sprinkled shredded cheese on them, and garnished them with a few parsley flakes. We baked those.

       Joey and yesterday's crew had made at least 5 HUGE baking pans filled with banana pudding (the product of a donation that was "use or lose"). We had 2 large boxes of fresh individual salads too! That was lunch.

       Around 55 people came for this meal, and I'm guessing they liked it because we got good reviews and many requests for seconds. Only two little boys showed up. They were too quiet. My crayons and little cars did not pull them from their serious demeanor.

       Among the resident homeless, I saw some new fresh faces, some old and withered faces, some weary faces. Most of them are sleep-deprived—it's not unusual to have them rubbing their eyes as they approach the lunch counter asking, "Am I here at the right time?" It's the way they ask; I know they've been admonished for showing up at the wrong time—and they fear a reoccurrence.

       The C&W music was more awesome than ever. I brought home three song titles to download! Joey's falsetto is still in fine form. I didn't see The Hugs today, but the gatekeeper lady that I like so much was there to partake of a salad, and her perfume was the first thing I enjoyed on walking in this morning.

       I'm feeling better, thanks, but the hang-dog is still with me to some extent, so 2-1/2 hours were quite enough! Passing thru the inner foyer on my way out, I overheard pieces of a conversation between a man and a woman who were there just to get warm. Perhaps you remember that place where folks who don't live at the shelter can come for warmth—and nothing else. The woman was emphatically telling the man that she wears men's t-shirts and sweats "all the time!" He shot back with, "That's an abomination! The Bible says that's an abomination!" My five or six steps to the outer door didn't allow me to hear more, but I think I got the meat of it.

       As for finally leaving and that magical musician, when he finished his song and I asked him, "What is that?" he gave me the Led Zeppelin title. He was in his element, and if I could have suspended that moment in time for him, I would have.

       "I'll play you another one," he said, adjusting his fingers on the strings.

       I thanked him for the song, but something in my back and feet insisted on replying, "Babe, I'm leaving; I've been on my feet all morning, and I gotta go!"

      At least I left him with a laugh. Maybe he'll share that, and it will spread on the streets, under the bridges, down to the crisis center—you never know.