No Longer Work

I’m in downtown Savannah this morning for the first time in several weeks for meetings and personal business. Using it as an opportunity to have my car tuned up for the drives to Athens for University of Georgia football games I stroll through the parks towards my favorite coffee shop.

As soon as I hit the south end of Forsyth Park, I hear my name being called. “Mike Elliott!! Mike, it’s me!!”

An older African-American man walks his bicycle towards me. He is flashing a dirty grin underneath a faded red baseball cap.

“Man I went to see you recently and they told me that you retired. Man! I thought that you would always be there!”

His name is David and I’ve known him for years. He was homeless when we met and I was still at Union Mission. That was years ago but David would come to see me from time to time, checking in, often to ask for my advice on something that he was working on.

That was a lot of what I did as President of Union Mission; talking to people who were or are homeless. It was a good reality check to make certain the things that we were doing were actually needed. Most of the programs that make up Union Mission were conceived as a result of these conversations.

That was then and this is now. David and I shook hands and then he embraced me. “Hey when you have time will you look at a business plan that I’m putting together.”

I laughed and said sure.

“Great! Thanks Mike! I’ll give it to Mrs. Joy and she can get it to you. That alright?”

“That’s fine David. You take care of yourself.”

“You too Mike! Good to see you man!”

I hadn’t been in downtown for five minutes yet. I began making my way through the Big Park and immediately ran into Charlie. Long blond hair fell out of the baseball cap that he was wearing. He was sprawled out on a park bench.

“Hey Rev,” he said with a grin then held out his hand for me to shake it. Charlie is an alcoholic who went through Union Mission several times. He may still be there for all I know.

“You staying clean?” I ask.

“Quit drinking five times yesterday,” he shot back. “I remain committed.”

I laughed and patted him on the shoulder.

“Take care of yourself Charlie,” I say and make my way on.

This happens two more times before I make it to the Express Café on Chippewa Square. I sit and sip coffee and realize that these are still my people. A 30 year career surrounded by people falling into or crawling out of homelessness taught me how we are all the same. Everyone has issues and struggles and flaws and incredible abilities all at the same time.

I note that I felt lighter as I encountered my friends than I used to. Before they would be wanting me to do something for them. It was never ending and I would often have a list of commitments or instructions when I got back to the office.

It is good to not have to feel that way today. It is also nice to understand how much they still appreciate the things that I did. I am reminded that real things happen at the one-to-one level and not on a grand scale. And I notice that I enjoyed seeing these guys and it no longer seems like work.