The Umbrella Man

When the weather turns warm, I see The Umbrella Man all over town.

He wears black work out pants with elastic at the ankles, a pair of Keds that have seen far better days, a torn tweedy sports coat with patches on the elbows, and he always carries an umbrella. He's a step and turn man - almost like a dancer, he walks a few steps and then quickly does a full circle, adjusts his umbrella, and continues. He has a serious face, thinning hair, and if approached will cast his eyes downward until passed by. Sometimes he speaks to the unseen people and once I watched him pet a dog that wasn't there. He is, I suppose, one of the many harmless and homeless who spend their days walking the city sidewalks, searching, sightseeing, wandering at random.

He travels great distances on foot and in all kinds of weather. His route takes him far past uptown and all the way downtown but I rarely see him off the main streets. I wonder about his family, his background, where he sleeps or eats, does he have children, how he came to be in his present circumstances, all the routine things that the rest of us take for granted. If he were to speak, would it make any sense? If he were to die, would anyone care? Has his life been worth it? Has his life been noticed?

I like to think that we all matter to someone, that we all live for a purpose even though it's kept from us. The Umbrella Man makes me grateful for all I have and maybe that's his purpose. I have a sense that God watches over him as he wanders.