Multi-generational homelessness

This man has been sitting in the same spot for a few days on East 4th Street near First Avenue in Manhattan's East Village, my neighborhood. He asks for nothing but I noticed him scraping the sides of a jar of something dark, chocolate spread perhaps, with a spoon.

He does not ask passersby for anything, does not initiate interaction. Yet when I asked him if I could take his photo he engaged with me quite readily. He was clearly not a wino or addict, and does not show overt signs of any mental illness.  I gave him the change from my pocket (and would have given more if I could). I told him he is beautiful, because he is.

The next morning on my way to the supermarket, with my two dogs in tow, he was still there. Still scraping the same jar. I picked up a jar of "Vitamin Water," an apple and a pear, with him in mind. On the way back I said, "I have some things for you." Again, in his absolutely accepting and gentle manner, he simply smiled and said, "Oh, good!" I asked him how his teeth are doing, are they strong.

"I don't have too many left," he said.

"OK, then, the apple is out, but can you eat a pear?"

"If it's soft," he answered, "but I have a grater in my bag, I can grate it up!"

I gave him the pear, the drink and some slices of bread from the bag I had just bought for my daughter and me, thinking how organized and skillful a homeless person he is to have a grater in his bag.

"So what are you doing out here?" I asked.

He shrugged slightly. "I'm homeless."

"Where  do you stay in the winter?"

"I  stay outside. I have warm blankets in my bag." (In New York City winter temperatures are at or below freezing for months.) Again I thought, "What a skillful man."

"No family? Where do you come from?" I expected to hear that he has drifted here from elsewhere.

"From Inwood."

"Uptown?"

Yes, he answered, he comes from that neighborhood, on the northernmost end of Manhattan.

"Well," he clarified, "I was raised in Inwood but my family was homeless, too."

My sweet new friend petted my dogs for a bit. I had to move along. "You take care out here," I said.

"Oh, I will! I do!"