Bobby’s usual begging spot is on the steps of the Starbucks shop on the corner of Beacon and Charles Streets in Boston. He’s one of the nicest beggars you’ll ever meet. Bobby has been trying to get a room in the Charles Street shelter for as long as I’ve known him. Today he told me that he thinks he’s getting near the head of the line. He’s been trying for that room for as long as I’ve known him.
Not for this kid.
Don’t you wish we still had that sense of wonder and anticipation.
In case I haven’t told you before, my wife Sarah is a voracious reader. I admire that trait very much and often wish I read more myself. However I’m dyslexic and content myself to more visual activities. I took this picture of her in our local Starbucks as she was chugging along trying to finish a book that she didn’t like.
Why read a book you don’t like you ask? She belongs to a book club of very fierce opinionated ladies and it was required reading for this month’s meeting.
You know the feeling. Eyes blurred, mind dull, attitude grim. Sure signs of a coffee addict waiting for his first hit.
Living in Boston as we do, Starbucks coffee shops are everywhere. This one is just down the hill from us and I go there every Sunday morning to pick up the Boston Globe and the New York Times. Even as late as 8:30 or 9:00 a lot of the regulars still haven’t shown up. Today I had the good fortune of taking a photograph of this guy who seemed either to be reading the paper of nursing a gigantic hangover.
His name is Michael, last name unknown. His “office” is the Starbucks on the corner of Beacon and Charles Streets. If you go into Starbucks around 8am you will often see him drinking his coffee on the corner of the communal table or even perhaps catching up on his sleep, head down not moving. The staff seems to accept his presence either way.
I took this portrait of Michael last Sunday as I was picking up the New York Times and the Boston Globe for our morning reading extravaganza. The nice thing about running into Michael inside Starbucks is the staff won’t let him beg inside the coffee shop. Once outside however his empty morning coffee cup becomes his begging container as he practices his trade with professional skill and cunning rarely seen on Boston’s streets. He has been a fixture on that corner for many years and Michael has many regular patrons. I don’t consider myself a regular donor but occasionally I’ll slip him a buck because he is such a pro.