With his death approaching, I asked him, “John, who was Martha Jones?”
My friend John Dickerson composed himself higher in the bed and smiled at my wife Jan and me. “Did you find her grave in the woods near my mother?”
Dear Friends:
My niece, who has been homeless, recommended preparing an old yet serviceable purse with sample sizes of nine useful items. This could be a gift to someone living on the street. The purse should have a shoulder strap so that it can be carried in addition to a backpack and still leave a person’s arms and hands free.
A list of items that a person might find helpful to have if they were unhoused.
“I don’t want to think about that stuff and I’m not going to write about it either.” John grabbed his backpack and stalked out the door. I had pushed too hard. It had happened in a moment, and he was gone.
