Bottles and cans and smiles, OMG

I walked to the front of our condo and picked up the mail today. On the way back I saw someone on the side of our building, digging through the trash near the dumpster.

My first thought was to let him be. Digging through trash can’t be the best way to find dinner, regardless of circumstances, but it’s far too common these days. From what I could see, he had both dumpster doors open and trash scattered all over the area, so I turned around and walked back down, willing to to usher the digger off the property.

“Hey, do you live here?” was my manly shout, announcing my presence. “No, I live next door. Sorry, I’m looking for bottles and cans,” was his quick and courteous reply.

He smelled of alcohol and hadn’t shaved in a day or two. He was wearing tennis shoes, shorts and glasses. A cell phone hung on a lanyard around his neck.

“You need to move on back next door and don’t leave a mess,” I said, again with the commanding voice.  “Oh, no mess at all. I understand a appreciate and respect your property. I was just separating bottles and cans from the trash,” he said meekly, but he looked me in the eyes.

Indeed, the dumpster area appeared messy from a distance, but viewing it all up close I could see he had diligently segregated glass bottles into a plastic bag, cans into another, plastic bottles into a third, while rummaging through another.

I looked into his face for what seemed like half a minute but was probably far less. “Found anything worthwhile,” I asked? He looked down at the bags beside the dumpster, and said, “A little of everything, I guess. Bottles and cans. Some guy left nearly a case of Bud Light cans.”

Again I stared into his face as if searching for some hint of danger or defiance. What I saw looking back at me was a man who needed to eat today, and was willing to dig through trash to find enough for the next meal.

“I’ve got some bottles and cans and things,” I said, as I turned and walked away. He continued to dig through his assortment of bags as I left.  Moments later I returned with four small bags of glass bottles, aluminum cans, and plastic bottles, and a couple of pictures of Abe Lincoln.

“Here,” I said, “these are for you, including this.” I handed him the bags and the five dollar bills. “Don’t drink your dinner. Eat something good tonight.”

He smiled and said, “thanks,” then turned back to sort the additional bottles and cans into their appropriate plastic bags. That’s a rough way to make dinner.