The man was a little bit younger than my dad tall blond and fairly handsome with a dignified appearance. Talking to him one could tell he was educated intelligent and rational. His words commanded attention full of compassion and valuable insight and his gentle spirit was unmistakable.
Yet on this cold February night in downtown Denver Hans clad in dirty work boots ill-fitting dad jeans and a thin gray hoodie huddled outside New Genesis a homeless men’s rehabilitation center. He shivered as he sat there as if trying to blend in with the stark concrete wall of the church hoping a spot might open up and allow him to escape the cold for the night.
Although coherent Hans reeked of alcohol. Taking the time to look intently into his eyes one saw the endless sorrow fixed there from a multitude of hardships. He would look away embarrassed to be seen this way seeming to want to disappear to want anything but for another to see his brokenness. Certainly he believed no one would be able to look past that and see his shared humanity. To so many he was just another bum who landed on the streets.
But to us no one was just another bum. My friends and I had come to downtown Denver in this freezing weather for the express purpose of meeting with these homeless people giving them food and most importantly acknowledging their shared humanity. As our small talk and earnest desire to connect with Hans gradually wore him down he began to reveal his story to us to let us share a bit of the burden that had been dragging him down for years.
Although Hans had struggled with alcoholism earlier in life he had made a stable living for himself his wife and his two daughters who were the center of his world. He had worked at Denver International Airport as an engineer taking home a comfortable income sufficient for a nice house in the suburbs and was an active member of his community. He fondly remembered these days that had come to an end too quickly.
First came Sept. 11 2001. As people flew less and airlines cut back following the attacks Hans was one in a wave of layoffs. Desperate for work he began taking a series of menial jobs to try to keep up as the family’s debt rose barely scraping by with the help of his wife. Then a year and a half later a car accident took her away. Unable to keep up with payments he and his girls lost their house. Desperate and trying to cope with the loss of his wife Hans lapsed back into his old habits and soon was drinking far too much to care for his daughters and keep a steady job. His daughters went to live with a family friend leaving Hans alone homeless and heartbroken.
The following week we returned. Hans was still there and came out of the shelter to greet us excitedly. He began talking immediately telling us enthusiastically that he was holding the same job he had the week before and working hard. He had also drunk only one day in the past week. He then began to tell us of his two daughters age 13 and 16 the driving force behind his life. We sat listening until the very last moment we could and when we had to leave he hugged each of us and thanked us for the simple act of listening to the words no one else would take the time to listen to.
We saw Hans only one more time the next week. He still held the same job and hadn’t drunk a single day since we had last seen him. He had saved up enough money to purchase a cellular phone and had called his daughters each day. In a rather surreal experience he called his younger daughter while we were there and put me on the phone with her. I made small talk asking how she was and how she liked school and then told her about how much her father loved her talked about her and worked hard for her sake. I don’t think I’ve ever seen the same expression on another human being face that I saw that night on Hans’ beaming with tears in his still-sorrowful eyes.
I’ll never know what happened to Hans after he left the shelter. I hope he left because he was doing well because he could hold a steady job and pay for a place of his own. Maybe now he has his daughters back and a new house in the suburbs. But regardless of where he is now I will never forget the lesson that he and so many others have taught me: Everyone homeless or not has a story that deserves to be told needs that deserve to be met and humanity that deserves to be acknowledged with dignity.