I saw him coming down the street as I looked out the window. It was a cold day and it just plain felt damp. About fifteen minutes later I heard the noisy cranking of our doorbell. I opened the door to see the older man that was even older than I had first imagined. He shivered from the cold and the dampness near froze my toes.
The old man nodded his head and gave me his name, “Mr. Howard.” I nodded my head back at him and asked “Can I help you?” Mr. Howard simply asked, “Do you have any old suits or jackets you don’t need?” I started to say no and then changed my tone as I felt the icy biting wind. I quickly thought it over and several old jackets popped up into my mind.
Three minutes later he was walking back up the street the way he had come with a sports jacket, a suit coat, and pants. I had told him that he might want to stop and ask again in a week or so. I was amazed that no one had given him a coat or jacket. Maybe I was the only one who answered a door. As most people seem to do, we had clothing in our closets that hadn’t seen the light of day in years.
I did a quick search of the closets, while Rose was napping on the couch. I saw her cuddle down and pull up her favorite quilt to almost cover her face. Over the next week Rose and I set aside a couple of nice shirts, three more jackets, some wool socks and two old hats piled for Mr. Howard.
Mr. Howard didn’t show for another week, but when he came, he said he appreciated our little stack of clothing. I was happy to get rid of them. Holding his new wardrobe he took a few steps and turned and asked, “Any more . . . like next week?” I shrugged my shoulders and then nodded my head. It wasn’t costing me anything, and it was cleaning out my closets and making more room for more stuff . . . a win-win situation.
I had also added the address of a friend who collected clothes to give to people in the homeless encampments in Tacoma and Pierce County. I pinned it to the collar of an ancient jacket Rose had found. I felt like we had done our good deed for the day . . . and beyond.
Two weeks later I saw Mr. Howard walking along the sidewalk on Sixth Avenue he looked very dapper. Three weeks later I saw him at St Vinnie’s with several tied pairs of shoes hanging from his neck. Both times I would have liked to chat to find out how he was doing, but was expected somewhere else.
A week later I was taken aback a little bit when I saw Mr. Howard driving a car, but by the time I turned my car around he was gone. I did stop at my friend’s house who distributed clothing and see how things were going. I explained what I had been doing and wanted to see if my friend was working with Mr. Howard. My buddy knew nothing about Mr. Howard, but said, “That could explain why donations had gone down dramatically . . . and some clothing disappeared off the porch.” I apologized for sending Mr. Howard to his house. Apparently, we had Mr. Howard setting up his own collection of clothes and perhaps keeping them out of the hands of people who could also use them. I felt used and stupid at the same time.
A week later I saw Mr. Howard walking away from a restaurant in Fircrest. My eyes nearly popped. Fircrest is not a cheap area. I spun my car around and was yelling at Mr. Howard until I realized it was not Mr. Howard at all. It was someone else wearing my old clothes and he was perhaps half my age. He took off running and cut through a couple different yards and I lost him.
A couple of hours later, I drove on home after shopping and parked my car next to the car that I had seen Mr. Howard driving several times. Inside Rose was laughing and drinking coffee with Mr. Howard. My mouth was wide open, but I had nothing to say . . . I just looked at the two of them, and then Rose spoke, “Jerry was telling me about the good you’ve done for him and a number of homeless people. He’s even been able start a little business that has given people a chance to earn money and the ability now to get out and apply for work . . . and all this came about because we gave away clothes that looked decent, which offered people the ability to find work not only near a Tacoma encampment, but beyond that to places hiring people. I was dumb founded. I excused myself and a few minutes later I returned with a couple more jackets and a number of twenty dollar bills stuffed into several pockets.
Even on another very cold day, Rose and I felt the warmth of donating and sharing clothing that had just been sitting in drawers and closets for years.
