An Unlikely Friendship

“We can never judge the lives of others, because each person knows only their own pain and renunciation.” ― Paulo Coelho

It was an early Monday morning in mid-August and I had a few hours to kill in downtown Atlanta waiting for some of my co-workers to arrive in town.  The plan was to meet at Hartsfield-Jackson Airport and then take make the 90 minute drive Northeast to Georgia's High Country region for our Sales retreat.

Sweet Auburn was only a 20 minute walk north-east of my hotel, so I thought I would pay my respects by visiting Dr. Martin Luther King’s birthplace.  Martin Luther King’s vision for a greater America – one that would let all people of colour have equal opportunity – had come a long way since the Civil Rights Movement era as Barack Obama was already 8 months into his first term as the first Black President by the time I had visited Atlanta.

Fairlie-Poplar District

Casually walking by the Fairlie-Poplar Historic District along the way, I decided to stop at one point to take a photo of this beautiful tree-lined side street and the surrounding area.  It was here when a homeless man approached me to ask if I would like my photo taken.  Slightly confused at first, I agreed and allowed him to take my picture.  Normally I do not interact with homeless people – let alone allow any of them to take my photo with my camera – but my gut instinct said he was harmless and someone I could trust.

He was a middle-aged, portly black man not much taller than me with a bit of a beer gut and a ball cap wearing a bright blue t-shirt, slightly dirty blue jeans, and a knapsack.  I could tell right away that he hadn't been living on the street for very long – maybe for a few days or even a week.  His physical appearance gave off this positive vibe.

Underground Atlanta

After taking my picture and exchanging pleasantries, he asked me what I was up this morning.  “I'm actually waiting for some co-workers to arrive around noon before we head off to our retreat, so I wanted to check out downtown for a bit.”

He offered to be my tour guide for the next couple of hours and show me around, including Sweet Auburn.  “Look, I can either beg you for some change or I can earn my keep and do some work to earn it.”  He had a point.

Georgia State Capitol

Before we headed off to Sweet Auburn, he took me to a few nearby attractions, including Underground Atlanta and the State Capitol building.  During this time, he shared his life story with me.  Divorced with a couple of grown children with one heading off to College soon, he was a successful blue collared worker some 15 odd years ago.  But, his marriage fell apart when he caught his wife cheating on him with his Best friend. 

Devastated, he turned to booze to numb the pain.  As with any alcoholic, his drinking became unmanageable and he ended up losing his job and home while bouncing between shelters since then.

“Do you still keep in contact with your family at all?”

“Oh yes, I do.  In fact, they have even offered to take me into their home,” he replied.

“Well, why don’t you just go and stay with them and get off the streets for good?”

“Look, I appreciate their offer.  But, I got myself in this mess and I am determined to get myself out of it one way or another.  I want to be successful again on my own terms.”

It was a bit crazy that he refused the support, but I was in no place to judge here as he was taking accountability for his own mistakes and working hard to make up for them.

Sweet Auburn

We continued making small talk by the time we entered Sweet Auburn.  My first impressions of the area were negative.  A run down, poor neighbourhood stuck in the oppressive 1960s contrasted the dominating downtown skyline only a few blocks away behind us.  It was mind-boggling to see boarded up restaurants and questionable characters roaming around the streets here.

 “Relax, nothing’s going to happen to you.  They know you are here with me, so they’ll leave us alone.”

Not realizing my inner turmoil was showing on my face, I was embarrassed by that comment, but proceeded to walk further into Sweet Auburn.

Contrast between Sweet Auburn & Downtown Atlanta

It was only a few more blocks before the old, rusted Ebenezer Baptist Church sign appeared before us.  We had arrived at the Martin Luther King Jr. National Historic Site.

Here at the Martin Luther King Jr. National Historic Site, visitors can take a look at the historical Ebenezer Baptist Church where Dr. King gave sermons as a Pastor although it was in the process of being restored while we there.  The current Ebenezer Baptist Church sits right across the street to accommodate an ever-growing congregation in the years following Dr. King's death.

Beside the current church is the Visitor Center dedicated to the life and accomplishment of Dr. King.  Even though we may have had a few stares at our direction by the other visitors in the Center, I was too oblivious to notice or even care as the homeless man and I engaged in serious discussion about the Civil Rights Movement.  Appearances aside, I was dealing with an articulate and intelligent man here and it clearly showed.

Ebenezer Baptist Church

After giving me as much time as I needed at the Center to read up on Dr. King’s accomplishments, we proceeded to head further East another block along Auburn Avenue before we arrived at Dr. King’s birthplace.  We paused for a few moments as there was a tour going on and we were listening in on the conversation.  I snapped a few photos here before deciding that we needed to head back towards my hotel as it was getting close to noon.  Before we did, though, we stopped by Dr. King’s tomb to pay our last respects.

At the end of the tour, I gave my thanks and sincere appreciation to the man who became more of a fatherly figure to me in the end.  Of course, I gave him some money for his troubles, which he said would be used to stay at the nearby homeless shelter.  Although I had my suspicions, I fought my cynicism as it was his choice to do whatever he pleased with that money.  He earned it after all.

Dr. Martin Luther King's Tomb

Before we said our goodbyes, I gave the man some words of encouragement and hope for getting his life back on track.  “Next time I am in Atlanta, I hope I can look you up online and see that you are doing more tours of downtown Atlanta,” I said to him because he had the gift of the gab and was extremely bright.  He just chuckled and said thanks.

I wish I had written his name down because I no longer remember it.  If I had the choice, I would call him Joe – as in the “Average Joe” – because he really taught me that you can’t  judge people by the way they look, including the homeless.  For all we know, we too can experience some unexpected hardships in our lives one day and have the same fate as Joe. 

Thanks, "Joe!"

But, Joe also showed me what humility and self-determination is all about in his quest to get himself back up on his feet.  It seemed symbolic that these lessons about prejudice were taught to me in Dr. King’s own backyard.  Joe, if you ever stumble upon this blog one day, thank you.  I pray that you have gotten your life back on track.