Leo sits on the hot sidewalk seemingly begging for cash without any apparent shame or apprehension. A weathered man obviously in his 70's, with an unruly white-grey beard hanging just below his collar bone. To most people he would appear to be another bum in the downtown section of the city.
He would sit near the corner of O'Connor and Slater streets in Ottawa - his hat sitting on the sidewalk available to every passerby, never cursing someone if they walked by and always willing to tell a story to anyone who would stop for a minute or two.
Back in the late 1990's, when Bill Clinton was President and Jean Chretien was in the middle of his tenure as PM, I was working downtown as a graphic designer/layout artist/pre-press technician.
After my newspaper days, I really just wanted a job with less stress and more pay. I BS'd my way into working for a medium sized, million dollar print and graphic design company. With very little experience in printing - other than buying it, but lots of layout and design experience, I managed to not bungle too badly in my first few months, and kept my position for a while after that.
After work, I would walk by Leo and drop him a quarter or so. He always thanked me and I always gave him a cursory nod as I headed towards my bus stop. But I often thought about him as I passed and jumped onto the bus wishing I could do more to help him out.
As time went on and Leo became a constant in my universe, I would often go out at lunch time, sit beside him and offer him a sandwich, which I had made for him the night before. The first time I did this, he actually got quite angry and threw the sandwich - bag and all - right back at me. He didn't throw it in a menacing way, but more in a way that showed me he still had some pride left.
I didn't give up with the sandwich idea and figured he would soon give in. He never did! He was always willing to talk and always had his hat sitting in front of him, seemingly a spot to drop money into.
One such day, I think in late July, and a particularly hot one to boot, I went to sit with Leo and offer him the sandwich (probably about the 15th time I had done so). Again he refused, but this time I offered him some water as well - from a water bottle I had just bought. This time he accepted it - and without hesitation.
I always wanted to ask him why he didn't want the sandwich, but I felt he had his reasons and perhaps maybe he thought I was just some do-gooder with no business nosing in on his life. How wrong I was!
That day, after he accepted the water, he leaned his head back in appreciation of the clean, cold drink and said "You know Colin (we were on a first name basis at this point), I am just not a no-good bum out here begging. I appreciate the water, and damn it's hot today, but the sandwich, no thanks. I eat breakfast before I come, I eat dinner when I head home, and I never ate lunch in all the years I was working down here - I'm not gonna start now."
I just had to know, so I started asking what got him to this stage. His answer really surprised me.
He was all too eager to talk. "Well I live over on Lebreton St. My wife passed away about 8 years ago and our only child lives out in Calgary. I can't stand being alone in my house all day with no one to talk to and only the dumb TV for company. So I come down here to see people and hopefully meet some. I used to walk around but no one would talk to you, everyone is always so busy." He paused for a moment of reflection "I guess I looked like just another busy person walking somewhere, so it's fitting that no one noticed me."
He took another deep gulp of water before continuing.
"When I walked around, I would see a lot of bums out here, begging for money, and that people would stop and talk to them, so I figured I could just sit here and people would stop and talk. At least this way I'm not so lonely and I get to hear some great stories or even tell a few." I put my hat out, don't really care if anyone puts money in, but it's just so that I look like all the other guys. Any money I get, I go give to that guy." he says, pointing at a long haired younger guy - on the other side of O'Connor.
We had many conversations over the next year, and in truth I've forgotten most of them. A year or so later I left for a different job in the other end of the city. I went out on my last day of work to say good bye, but Leo wasn't there.
I never did offer him any sandwiches after that enlightening day, but on warm days brought him a bottle of water - which we often shared.
I haven't seen him since 1997, but often think about our 'friendship' and the lessons I learned.
Back in the late 1990's, when Bill Clinton was President and Jean Chretien was in the middle of his tenure as PM, I was working downtown as a graphic designer/layout artist/pre-press technician.
After my newspaper days, I really just wanted a job with less stress and more pay. I BS'd my way into working for a medium sized, million dollar print and graphic design company. With very little experience in printing - other than buying it, but lots of layout and design experience, I managed to not bungle too badly in my first few months, and kept my position for a while after that.
After work, I would walk by Leo and drop him a quarter or so. He always thanked me and I always gave him a cursory nod as I headed towards my bus stop. But I often thought about him as I passed and jumped onto the bus wishing I could do more to help him out.
I didn't give up with the sandwich idea and figured he would soon give in. He never did! He was always willing to talk and always had his hat sitting in front of him, seemingly a spot to drop money into.
One such day, I think in late July, and a particularly hot one to boot, I went to sit with Leo and offer him the sandwich (probably about the 15th time I had done so). Again he refused, but this time I offered him some water as well - from a water bottle I had just bought. This time he accepted it - and without hesitation.I always wanted to ask him why he didn't want the sandwich, but I felt he had his reasons and perhaps maybe he thought I was just some do-gooder with no business nosing in on his life. How wrong I was!
That day, after he accepted the water, he leaned his head back in appreciation of the clean, cold drink and said "You know Colin (we were on a first name basis at this point), I am just not a no-good bum out here begging. I appreciate the water, and damn it's hot today, but the sandwich, no thanks. I eat breakfast before I come, I eat dinner when I head home, and I never ate lunch in all the years I was working down here - I'm not gonna start now."
I just had to know, so I started asking what got him to this stage. His answer really surprised me.
He was all too eager to talk. "Well I live over on Lebreton St. My wife passed away about 8 years ago and our only child lives out in Calgary. I can't stand being alone in my house all day with no one to talk to and only the dumb TV for company. So I come down here to see people and hopefully meet some. I used to walk around but no one would talk to you, everyone is always so busy." He paused for a moment of reflection "I guess I looked like just another busy person walking somewhere, so it's fitting that no one noticed me."
He took another deep gulp of water before continuing.
"When I walked around, I would see a lot of bums out here, begging for money, and that people would stop and talk to them, so I figured I could just sit here and people would stop and talk. At least this way I'm not so lonely and I get to hear some great stories or even tell a few." I put my hat out, don't really care if anyone puts money in, but it's just so that I look like all the other guys. Any money I get, I go give to that guy." he says, pointing at a long haired younger guy - on the other side of O'Connor.
We had many conversations over the next year, and in truth I've forgotten most of them. A year or so later I left for a different job in the other end of the city. I went out on my last day of work to say good bye, but Leo wasn't there.
I haven't seen him since 1997, but often think about our 'friendship' and the lessons I learned.
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