Alfred is a staple of downtown. His deep, bellowing voice bounces off the facades of our little city’s shops, announcing he is here, while his kindness cements he should be. It’s been a long road with Alfred. He was homeless, then got a place off Sutherland through Helen Ross McNabb, but is back on the streets again. “I ain’t stayin’ out here long this time. I fuckin’ ain’t, man,” he said when he first got back on the streets. It’s been a few months now, but he’s still trying. “That’s all you can do. You just keep going,” he said as we sat together on a park bench. It recently snowed and we were acquainted with over a week of freezing temperatures. Our community took a hit, with at least 9 people dying of hypothermia according to our local newspaper. Luckily, Alfred wasn’t one of them. “I hate that people froze to death because they didn’t want to listen. I stayed at a warming center. It’s a church on Magnolia, Magnolia United Methodist Church. We stayed there all week. Stayed outta the cold, and we stayed warm. They fed us and nobody went hungry,” he said.
Later, he brought up Linda Shropshire, a local sweetheart I’d known for 12 years. She froze to death on the streets in a city with more than enough ability to never let this happen.
When it started to snow, he was on Magnolia already. “It started snowing really, really bad, so me being the ingenious, resourceful person that I am, I called the cops. No bullshit. I called to police. There’s one time ya gotta call them on yourself, man,” he said, laughing. “…and they came and got me, man. Took me up there.”
He explained how his mother gave him a few extra bucks since they had to limit the meals to account for everyone. “I had Arby’s, McDonalds, Family Dollar right up the street. I didn’t want for shit, man. I lived like a fuckin’ king up there.”
“Don’t ever give up.” He stopped, seeing another person in similar overalls and went on to tell me he had cleaning supplies to wash his clothes and how good the sandwiches in the market are. He reached in his pocket to pull up a picture of Linda on his phone. “She fuckin’ passed away, out here in the damn cold,” he said. “It’s just sad, man. We all tried to get her to come up. She just wouldn’t come up.” He showed me the photo. He sat there for awhile, his demeanor changed and he slumped and stared off. We sat there for awhile, simply together.
He eventually continued. “It’s going to get better. I just gotta keep plugging away for shit. It might be rough. We know I don’t do the mission. There’s drugs, violence, just chaos in general. I don’t want to deal with it. I’d rather go somewhere, lay down and know I got a peace of fuckin’ mind.” His outlook on life is something we can all take consideration of. Staying away from situations that aren’t beneficial just because they may be easier. If I know anything about Alfred, his life has not been easy, but he’s smart, kind. I’ve long seen a man who constantly tries to turn what he was given into something he can appreciate a little more each day.
Before it got cold, he called me over in Market Square and opened up to me. He told me about his struggles and a loss in the family he’d just went through. We hugged and sat together. This big, deep voiced man was fully knocked down for the first time I’d seen, but knew the avenues to feel loved, listened to, while offering the same along the way. “That’s why I fuck with you, Ryan. You a real one.” I do nothing but listen, and I think that’s what most of us, at the very least, hope for.