Me? I was going to hang around and help for a while and then head off. I had a full day planned. 

People snapped up the boots and most of the clothes. The recipients were gracious, grateful for anything that might make their time outside more bearable. Some hung around to chat.

Then the police came. I spoke with an officer who rebuffed my suggestion that those on the street should be allowed to keep their belongings. “They get most of it from garbage bins,” he said. “Besides, there are lots of empty spaces in the shelters.” Of course, many homeless people avoid the shelters where they are liable to get robbed or assaulted.

Quinn told the officer, pointing to a button on his jacket, that supportive housing was the only real answer. The officer agreed. Meanwhile, other police and their helpers began to collect the tarps and other belongings and toss them into a garbage truck.

One man was rescuing his possessions and loading them onto his walker. I went over to help. Wayne was 63 and, as he told me later, had lived on the street all his life. I didn’t ask for details.

Getting his stuff together took a while. He had blankets, clothes and bags full of bottles to take to the depot. Quinn gave him a sleeping bag. Whenever Wayne asked me to do something, I misunderstood or didn’t hear him. The officer greeted him in a friendly spirit and gave him some large plastic bags for his belongings. 

After Wayne and I got everything together, we wheeled and carried it to the back of the Bissell Centre. Then the sorting began. He chucked some stuff over to a nearby garbage bin. We got all the bottles into one large plastic bag. Finally, we neatly arranged and tied down everything Wayne wanted to keep on his walker. It was slow, but by the end, he had an efficient setup he could transport himself. 

I told him I wasn’t of much help. “No, you’re doing great,” he said. That encouragement was closely followed by comments like, “No, not like that!” and “You’re not doing it right.” Tying and untying knots was arduous in the cold, but Wayne was patient and did things his way. Who was I to argue? He had his system.

After an hour, he was ready to go. I knew he wouldn’t get Mr. Trudeau’s $250 handout, so I gave him $20. It was as though he had won the lottery. Tears came to his eyes, and several times he said, “Thank you.” Fiercely independent, Wayne was not a guy to ask for charity. He had a sleeping bag and a candle to keep him warm at night.

Then he asked me to go home and get him a blanket. I said, “I’m sorry. We just gave away all our extra blankets.” If he had come to the ICPM table earlier, we would have given him one. By the time he showed up, the blankets were gone.

I don’t know if Wayne would choose to live in supportive housing if he had the opportunity. He had been on the street for so long and was fiercely independent. But many others would jump at the chance. Why do governments often have something to give to voters with higher incomes but so little for those who most need help? Last year, more than 400 people in Edmonton died from homelessness and its effects. This travesty is everywhere in Canadian cities. Yet, the government seems to have money for everything except our poorest neighbours.

Watch Martin Kerr sing “God Rest Ye Merry Billionaires” on YouTube for a visual overview of homelessness in Edmonton. To offer help, donate to Inner City Pastoral Ministry (www.icpmedmonton.ca) or one of many similar organizations across Canada. Better yet, go out and meet some homeless people yourself.