I grew up in a small town in Georgia right on the Chattahoochee River. My parents were very religious, but instead of the "holier than thou, let me sit on my marble throne of judgement" type of Christians, they were very dedicated to actually helping others and being genuinely loving towards everyone. When I was about 8 (late 90s), a woman at our church, who was heavily involved with the homeless ministry, told my dad about Dan. Dan was a sweet man, probably in his mid 30s, who lived on the riverbank and was looking for work. He wasn't a drug addict, he wasn't an ex con, he was just a regular person who had lived an incredibly hard life. We needed our roof redone, so my dad hired Dan to help him.
I will never forget the first time I met Dan- he stayed for dinner after the first day of work. He was quiet, kind, and had a genuinely good soul. The roof work took about a week, and after it was finished my parents couldn't just forget about him... so they invited him to move in. We lived in a 3 bedroom house and I had a 5 year old sister, so I moved all of my stuff into her room and Dan took my room.
Dan stayed with us for about a year, and even though I was only 8, the experience was very eye opening. Although I was too young and sheltered to know that people were prejudiced against the homeless, I very quickly learned just how cruel the world can be. Dan was a hard worker, a good person, softspoken, diligent, but he just couldn't seem to catch a break. He worked various odd jobs and spent a few months as a taxi driver, but despite his best attempts to find a permanent job, employers didn't seem to want to hire him. He was no longer homeless, but a lifetime of marginalization and living by the river had taken a toll. Because of this, people judged him without ever giving him a chance, and those people really missed out. Dan used his first paycheck from the taxi job to go out to Toys R Us and buy these huge art sets for my sister and I. To this day that is one of the best presents I have ever received. So many people forget that homeless people are just people too, and being homeless doesn't always mean someone is a bad person, sometimes it means that the world is bad.
Eventually Dan's job as a taxi driver ended (I'm not sure why- I was too young to know or even think to ask), and he went back to searching for a job. Once again, he was rejected from employer after employer, until he finally got a job as a carnival worker. The job took him all across the South, so he moved out of our house and in with the other fair workers. My dad bought him luggage, more new clothes, gave him some cash, and we said our goodbyes. Since he had no cell phone and no permanent address, we had no way of contacting him. He had our information of course, but I don't think my parents ever heard from him again.
I think about Dan often, and I recently tried to track him down, but his web presence is non- existent. The only record I found was a white pages listing, and it appears that he has a permanent residence at an apartment in Georgia. I hope the listing is correct and that he's happy. Because of Dan, I will never stop trying to help the homeless and I will never judge a book by it's cover. He was a great person who didn't deserve the hardship he endured, and I hope things are finally looking up for him.