Homeless people on Muni span the gamut – you get the crazies, the smelly, the mean, the drunks, and any combination therein. Rarely have I encountered a benevolent and respectable bum. But I’m a cynical optimist, so I try to keep an open mind.

Riding the 71 from the Haight downtown last week, I plopped down beside a musty, white-haired gentleman who looked neither mean nor crazy. In fact, his broad, bear-like physique and mitt-size hands reminded me a bit of my pops, who can crack pistachios in his fists.

The ride downtown was ordinary – I was able to read my book relatively attentively. Every once in a while, though, I caught my grizzly, mitt-handed seatmate suck in large gasps of air, a seeming chest or cardiovascular problem. And I also caught him taking quick glances at me. Nonetheless, I was unperturbed by his mild behavior, and even felt a little at ease beside him.

Nearing his stop at Ninth and Market, the man excused himself and exited my bench. Still immersed in my book, I continued to catch sideways glances from the gentleman while he awaited the bus to stop. I could tell he really wanted to make eye contact. So I put down my book and looked at pops squarely in the eyes. Unabashed, he gave me the warmest, most genuine smile that said, “Thanks for staying beside me for the duration of the ride, even though I might smell a little and breathe heavily.”

The man exited, and I fumbled in my bag for my phone, for my camera, for anything that could utterly capture the man and the profound effect of his smile. I was too late though, and the 71 rambled on as I caught one last parting shot of the man crossing Market.

I’m not an all-god’s-children kind of girl, nor do I drone on about welfare and prosperity for all (although my friends are free to correct me — this is your shot!), but the impact this man left on me was a state of utmost ethereal bliss. My takeaway – and yes, a little on the dribbly, touchy-feely side – is that a little humanity goes a long way.

-Jenny

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