Philip.

It's easy to overlook a panhandler. In fact, I've devoted years to perfecting a process for dealing with a street-corner panhandler, a process which includes:

-Avoiding eye contact by fumbling with phone or looking for cross-traffic.
-Cursing said panhandler for adding a modicum of guilt to my day.
-Instantly forgetting him the second he's out of my sight.

It's extremely easy when you see a person with a cardboard sign as just another sad face, as a prop to the story of your life.

It gets tougher when that face has a name.

As of right now (January 7, 11:01am), Philip is sitting in a wheelchair at the cross-section in the Target parking lot on Churn Creek in Redding.

He's wearing a camouflage jacket, and a black hat and gloves that I just gave him. It's about 34 degrees outside.

He's wearing two pairs of ripped jeans to help keep his legs warm. I have clothes that I haven't worn in years.

He looks to be in his fifties. He has fingernails that haven't been cut in a while, he's got longish grey hair that's balding on top, and he lights up when you make eye contact with him.

He says "beautiful" a lot.

When I looped around the parking lot to wave goodbye, to told me that my brake light was out.

He's not just a prop to add ethos to your life. His name is Philip, and he's got a story of his own.

At the very least, smile at him if you see him today. It'll make a difference to him.

But for God's sake, don't ignore him.



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