Hi you guys,In response to a story that a friend of mine here at DS sent to me, I sent her a message about the following experience that I had when I lived in Los Angeles. This was quite an experience for me. At my friend's suggestion, I am putting this in my journal. It is the following:Your story about the baby is beautiful and reminds me of someone that I used to know when I lived in LA. There was a man, much like the man in your story, who stood on one of four corners of Vermont and Third every single day - all day long. The way I knew it was going to rain is that he would wear a baggy on his head - too cute for words. He clearly was a homeless man who had lost a good deal of his mind - but would always say "good morning" when I passed by. At holidays I used to take him a "care package". A couple of ham sandwiches - a small pie, rolls, etc. I also gave him a pint of scotch - it couldn't hurt his brain anymore, I felt, and he needed some warmth. The last year that I lived there I gave him a Christmas card with his care package that sang Jingle Bells when it was opened. When I was sitting at the light, waiting to cross, I saw him opening the card and closing the card, and opening the card and closing the card and opening............and closing.......till I drove away. He gave me something so precious - he let me know that even if I did become a bag person (my greatest fear at the time) - it wasn't as scary as I had imagined. He was liked, he was alive, and he smiled - that was good enough for me.This man was so dear - I still think about him and wonder how he is.