I always think about the guy that is missing all of his limbs, the one that panhandles on President and Fayette streets. I wonder if he has an assistant, someone who helps him get from point A to Point B. He obviously makes more money than any other panhandler in the city, but I can’t possibly imagine how he goes about things on his own. I assume he lives across the street, somewhere in that camp that is set up in front of the church. I wonder if he gets the spot closest to the camp because he is well respected, or if people take advantage of him. I wonder about all of this, but only sometimes do I ever make the effort to give him money when I am sitting in my car. He moves slow, and because sometimes I see his artificial limbs fall off and roll into the street, I am hesitant to stick a dollar bill out of my window. I am hesitant to do this not because I worry about his safety, but because it would be horrifying to watch all of this go down.
