A Friend Named Jan

I was looking for a homeless friend, and put the word out to couple of my other homeless friends yesterday. For this person frequents McDonald’s and I hoped to

see him there at 11 a.m today.

So I made my way there after leaving the Recovery Center, and first met my California friend who lives at the camps. He was sitting inside, keeping warm, drinking coffee.

As I turned around, in came the one I’d searched for a few times last week, rolling up in his wheelchair. He went to the counter, holding an empty coffee cup, which the girl filled with hot coffee. His smile came with, “What are you doing up here?”


“I came to see you. Did someone tell you to meet me?”

“No, just came for some coffee.”

“Great timing. I had to check on you. I was worried when I found out your place was torn down.”

“They gave me just a bit to get out. Didn’t get all my stuff, but I’ve got another house I’m staying in. I’m out of the weather.”

“Oh, I’m so glad.”

About then, my California buddy came up for a refill. I asked, “So, do you two know each other?”
They each said, “No.”

I did the formalities, and let them know they should be friends, and they even shook hands.

I asked, C. “Haven’t you seen him before?”

“Yeah, I just haven’t taken the time to speak to him.”

L., pretty much said the same thing.

We moved to a table, and I went back to the counter to buy them breakfast. When I returned, the two of them were gabbing like old geezers, who had been buds for years.

I didn’t stay long. I had a feeling they needed to talk.

And I simply needed to move along. But I love how C. hollered, “Bye Ms. Jan.”

“I’m not Jan. It’s Pam. We’ve had this talk.”

C., shouted, “You’re kind of a bossy friend, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but that’s the key. We are friends.”

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