Intersection Salesman

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He sells his newspapers on the corner of Charles and Beacon streets in Boston to raise money for the homeless. These guys are all over Boston and they are VERY good salesmen. I always enjoy talking to them. He didn’t want to smile because he didn’t have many teeth.

A New Style In Homeless Shelters

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I walked up close enough to see the man curled up under his golf umbrella trying to sleep. However I backed off before taking this picture so I could get a good shot of the church to give the image good contex.

The Blue Glove

 

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I was initially drawn to this man by the fact that he was standing absolutely still, head down, not moving a muscle for all the time I was photographing him. Also I was attracted by the enormous load of bags that he was pushing. However when I looked at this image later it was his robins egg blue glove that stood out. 

They say that photographs should be given time to marinate before final judgement is passed. For this one at least, that turned out to be very true.

His Name Is Billy

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He and I are friends. (kind of)

I see him a lot sitting by himself on various park benches in Boston Common. Billy is very hard to understand. My guess is he’s got a wet brain from too much booze.

He won’t take any money.

Today I told him my name was John and I think he understood that.

His eyes filled with tears.

Park Bench Lady


This lady sits on this park bench everyday by herself, always dressed the same no matter what the temperature. She stares off into the middle distance and almost never moves. She declines assistance and doesn’t seem to want to talk.

The Black and White Down And Out Blues

R0330051-EditsmallThis man with the long white beard is not very old. We saw him this morning bent over carrying what appeared to be all his belongings in a sack on his back. A handsome man who, for whatever reason, is now homeless in Boston wearing a dirty tea shirt with an American flag on it.

There’s a sad story keeping him company.  

Say Hi To “Strayzie”

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Please excuse this cat picture. I see so many on Facebook and other social media that I am loath to burden you with another. However this fellow deserves an introduction.

The name Strayzie comes from the fact that he was first seen roaming wild around my sister’s neighborhood, quite a few years ago now. A stray in every sense of the word. Suspicious, hostile and completely unwilling to accept any friendship, except the food she left for him at a discreet distance from her house.

But my sister persisted (she adores all animals) and over time, well over a year in fact, she finally lured this big tom into her home.

And here he stays. Sharing his domain with two other previous strays who don’t like him at all.

Not matter. He doesn’t care. He adores my sister and she him. Their friendship brings happiness to both of them and that’s all that really matters.

Isn’t it?

 

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