John, 63

John, 63, whose real name in Polish is Janusz, arrived in America 20 years ago. He was never able to get his residency papers and therefore lived in the shadows of American society doing construction jobs. He is a carpenter by trade. I found him laying on a cardboard box opposite Macy’s. Within a few minutes, I realized he was a jolly good fellow who loved using the word, “bullshit” for everything.

He has been on the streets for some time as work had dried up in the construction business.

As we sat on the pavement together, while initially hesitant he warmed up fairly quickly and we had a long conversation about Russian oil and a foolish 30 year oil contract signed by the Polish president with Russia. We talked about Hollywood and Bollywood. He has a son, Kamil who lives in Europe and unfortunately they have not spoken in a year. His passport and ID were stolen on the subway while he slept. We just talked about whatever came to our minds. He mentioned how a Muslim charity gave out hot food on Fridays at 9 and 11 PM. How one of the meals was beans and rice and he wished they changed it because it made him fart all night.

After about 45 minutes as I began to take his leave, I said, “Thank you!” He responded, “No, Thank you!” I don’t know how anything else I could have done that day would have bettered that encounter. Loneliness and the feeling of being unwanted is the most terrible poverty. However, on Sunday, Sept 20 2020, briefly, both, John and I felt wanted and terribly rich. 

Story by Gary