I spent my day working at an IKEA store in Carson today. Trying to find different things from other stores to help improve our processes. Blah, blah, blah, like you care about that. Anyway, when I left work I stopped to get gas before jumping on the highway home. While I was there I met a man who asked if he could wash my windows for change, 'Get 'em nice and clean'. I was a little hesitant, but he continued to talk to me while I filled my tank. Now, I used a card so that I could deny having the cash to give him (or whatever reason, him approaching me just made me more apt to pull it out instead of cash). Before I was done filling up, though, I had a change of heart. He had talked on long enough for me to stop seeing him as a phantom that would just go away when I left and became ever so slight of an acquaintance. He seemed nice enough and in the mood to talk...Incessantly, so I decided I would buy him some dinner. If he wanted money to eat, then I would just cut out the middle man. A more pleasant man you could not want to meet. His conversation skills we're a bit rough, speaking quite fast and not really looking for any responses. I wasn't actually able to catch 100% of his speech. One or two things slipped past me. He was a pretty good guy, as far as I could tell. His name was Clinton Parker and, from what he told me, up until a couple of years ago (when he turned 45) everything was pretty normal for him. Not long after that, he began to develop intense epileptic seizures and it made it impossible to continue his life as he knew it and things began to spiral down. I didn't asked any of the specifics (as I just let him talk) of his life following and leading up to this point, but it did make me wonder. I also learned that the money he was asking for wasn't for food at all, but for the medication for his epilepsy. He showed me his medicine with the prescription and a few other things from his pockets, including a card with his ID on it. I'm not really sure what that was. It may have been a medical card, since he was talking about his medicine as he showed it to me, but he held it too close to my face to see. It was small and gold, I know that with his name and birthdate. He noticed my shirt said IKEA on it and asked if I worked there and if I liked it. I told him yes and then he asked if I thought they would take a man with seizures if he applied. I said that I didn't see why not. He said he wanted to apply there as long as he could get a job where he didn't have to carry anything too heavy or drive anything, in case of a seizure. I guess the medicine helps, but not completely. I'm sure there's something there that he could do. When we were done I said goodbye and gave him what little bit of money I did have in my pocket. It didn't seem like it was going to waste. He said, 'God bless you. You a good person', and I smiled and told him to take care. Then I headed home, but I couldn't stop thinking about him.

I want to know what his life was like before, when he was younger. What did he want out of life? What were his dreams then, and now, for that matter? I felt an overwhelming sense of guilt for not being able to do more. I've decided I want to go back there and talk to him some more, maybe even take the video camera. I want to know all I can about his life to this point. If he's as genuine as he seemed, I want to help him try to get a job and whatever else he needs, maybe a new outfit. I may even try to raise some money for him, just for some basics.

I know, for the most part, that people make a decision to live their lives that way. But what if once they have, they realize that they've made a wrong turn, but they can't see the opportunity to get it back to where they feel they should be. Once someone has put him or herself in this life they seem to become almost a different breed of person in the community's eyes. An un-erasable mistake that you try to ignore, like a smudge on a perfectly typed page. I just want to know more. Chuck and I had talked a couple of weeks ago about doing a documentary on street beggars. Maybe this is a perfect place to start, if he's willing, that is. O.K., I'll stop. I know I'm just going on and on, but I was hoping writing about it would make the thought a little less prevalent in my mind. Apparently, that wasn't the case. But it is almost four in the morning and I have to work tomorrow, so I will stop...for now. I'm not finished with you yet, though. Until next time...WATCH THE DETROIT PISTONS, there will be a test following the video portion.