Quite a while back, I wrote an earnest little post about the apparent closing of a local, neighborhood newsstand. I feared the worst. I speculated that financial hardship or some tyrannical legal stipulation had forced them out of business. As it happened, the brothers that run the stand had to fly home to India for a couple of weeks to attend to some family matters. They returned shortly afterwards and business resumed as normal. So, yeah, I blew the whistle on that one a little too soon.
I’m sincerely hoping I’m doing the same in this post about another neighborhood fixture. About seven or eight years ago, I befriended a homeless gentleman named Al who spends large amounts of time perched just to the south of my local deli. Though he seemingly relies on whatever small change people are willing to give him, Al is not an aggressive panhandler by any stretch. A polite and gentle soul, Al is counted as a friend by many people in my neck of the woods. It’s not at all uncommon to see three or four people regularly stopping to check in with him, see how he’s doing and just generally shoot the breeze.
I can’t say I know that much about him beyond a few details. Evidently, he grew up somewhere out on Long Island. I believe he used to work in the stationery store that formerly operated on 10th Street between University and Broadway, but fell on hard times after it closed some years ago. Ever since, he’s been homeless. I usually see him on my way home from work. He always asks how I’m doing --triggering my all-too-easily-riled penchant for whining and complaining about my lot in life – until I realize who I’m talking to. I always try to give Al a buck or two if I can, and I’ve given him the odd sweatshirt, baseball cap and t-shirt on occasion. For a while this summer, he sported one of my old Sisters of Mercy shirts from back in the day … making him an unlikely hit with the few remaining neighborhood Goths.
I don’t know where he goes when he leaves that familiar perch on University Place. I know he’s not a big fan of homeless shelters, for a variety of scary reasons. Sometimes when I see Al, he’s sporting fresh bruises. It’s hard not to worry about him.
In any case, it’s especially hard not to worry about Al these days as for the last few weeks, he’s been missing. I haven’t seen him outside the deli or around the neighborhood. The local merchants and doormen who also know him haven’t spotted him. No one seems to have heard or know anything about his whereabouts. It’s hard not to imagine the worst.
Wherever you are, Al, I hope you’re alright.
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