Mr. Cheerful

If you know much about Atlanta, you know that Interstates 75 and 85 go right through the middle of it.  The two interstates are like two wires wrapped around each other but separated on either end.  The twisted part in the middle is in the heart of Atlanta and is known as "the connector" which runs North and South.  Intersecting perpendicularly, and running East and West,  is Interstate 20.  The convergence of all these interstates creates quite a traffic snarl on most mornings.  Travelling from West to East and then merging North onto the connector can take a quite a while, especially in the mornings.  With all those cars backed up, it has a prime place for the homeless to look for a little good will from the daily commuters.  For the better part of the last 20 years, this is the guy that me and several thousand other commuters would see nearly every day:

Although I never knew his name, I was always fascinated by him.  He was always smiling or waving or saluting.  From what I saw from my car window, he always appeared fresh and clean.  Never dirty or disheveled. His cheerful demeanor was uplifting.  The fact that he was so cheerful despite what must have been difficult circumstances often encouraged me to smile through my own trials.  Just seeing him brightened my day.

Some say you should never give handouts since it is a positive reinforcement and a discouragement for hard work at an honest job.  Other say the homeless are human beings just like you and me and deserve the same respect and occasional helping hand that we would hope to receive.  That is a worthy debate to have, but it is not the purpose of this post.  In fact, on some days I would get in "his" lane so that I could give him a sandwich or a few dollars.  On other days I would get in the right lane just so I would not feel pressured to give him anything.

He is certainly not the only homeless guy in Atlanta.  In fact, in the past few months he was one of three or four in the same small area.  I was forced to do more than a little introspection when I found that it was much easier to turn a blind eye to the unshaven and dirty sad looking guys than to Mr. Clean & Cheerful. What makes it so easy to be drawn to this guy and so easy to look past those around him?  I'm afraid the answer likely reveals a darker part of human nature.

In the past few years, I have discovered a shortcut that would take me on some side streets and get me on to the connector much faster than those that drove past Mr. Cheerful.  Although I would no longer drive past him, I would look across the way just see if he was still over there.  He always was.  Occasionally, I would do Google searches to see if I could find anything out about him.  I thought surely someone else was enthralled with him as I was.  Nothing ever came up.

Last week I happened to go the way of Mr. Cheerful and saw this:

There was no traffic that day, so there was no Mr. Cheerful.  I found the display curious and feared the worst.  A few days later, I went that way on purpose and found a new guy in the same spot.  After giving him a few dollars, I asked him what happened to "that" guy (pointing to the display against wall).  I was told that while he was sleeping in that very spot in his tent, a DUI truck left the road and ran right into him as he slept.  He died on the spot.  A news story confirmed the account.  The memorial showed that I was not the only one that would miss Mr. Cheerful.  I contacted the writer of the news story and learned that the man's name was Johnny Johnson Jr.  I also learned that a group named MOTION had helped Johnny and others for years.  They were the ones that first broke the news of Johnny's death.  Although his obituary was rather brief, the comments were a testament to the fact than there were many people, like me, that were daily encouraged by a complete stranger.  I will miss him even though I never really knew him.  I never knew him by Johnny until after his death. His death is a reminder that each of the homeless are more than just a problem to solve, more than just a beggar - they are a fellow human being with a name - even if we never  know it.