First Meeting

I met Bill, a homeless man, one evening after walking with our dog Lily around the Argo Pond/Bandemere Park loop lining the Huron River. I'd parked in the Argo Canoe Livery lot, and that's where our walk ended. I'd remembered seeing some people around a campfire back in the woods at the end of the lot, and my curiosity had been piqued.

I poked my head into the opening of the woods, and saw only a bicycle leaning against a tree. There were a series of exaggerated hills, kind of like the mountain bike workout area nearby, but higher. So I went into the woods and climbed up and down a few hills. Then I noticed a tent up ahead. I hesitated, not wanting to intrude.

I could see a man sitting near the tent, and he had detected my presence and called out something like "There's nothing back here but train tracks". I said OK, and was about to leave, but then he said I could come back there if I wanted to. So I did.

The campsite was kind of messy, but the man was friendly. He introduced himself as Bill, and said that he was homeless, but really loved it here in Ann Arbor. He offered me some pizza. I accepted and sat in the other camp chair. The pizza was very bad - Papa John's - it had to be the worst pizza I'd ever had. But hey - being offered pizza by a homeless man doesn't happen every day.

We talked just a little bit, but as it turns out, he seems to prefer singing and playing guitar more than talking. He sang several songs, but was interrupted occasionally by searing pain from a broken finger. He'd broken it only a week ago, and being homeless, hadn't seen a doctor. I suggested that he could at least splint it with a stick or something. But he didn't seem interested.

The songs he played were from the distant past - most of them I had heard in my own youth. He had a nice voice, and was a tenor, always trying to reach the higher registers. His strumming wasn't bad either.

There was another tent nearby. Bill told me that another homeless man, Gary, lived there. Gary had seen some rough times. When he was 17 or so, he'd been shot by a cop in the back, and had sustained lasting damage. Then, when he was a little older and drunk, a semi had driven over his leg and left him partially crippled.

Bill's hobby is fixing up abandoned bicycles, and he'd helped Gary out by fixing him a bike to ride around town. Bill takes the bikes that students have left behind and out of partial sets of good parts, assembles single bikes with all good parts (I think). He told me that if I brought him my old bike (the one I rode in college), he could fix it for me. I wouldn't even need to provide the supplies. Again, a homeless person offering me a gift! Bill was not a typical homeless person - he seemed like more of a homeless wanderer.

The campsite was right next to some train tracks that were raised up high on a berm - above our heads. These tracks are very close to the train station, and I know that the train starts blowing its whistle as soon as it hits town, so Bill must get quite an earful several times a day and night.

He said he had a job in town, although not what. Obviously he has money for pizza, and probably other food. I don't remember exactly when I met Bill, but it was well after my bike accident, so it was at the earliest in late September. It had not started getting really cold yet, but it would get cold soon. I wondered whether Bill would go into town to stay in the shelter or move on.

Second Meeting

Not long after our first meeting, I had a chance to walk Lily in Bill's area, and I stopped by to see whether he was there. He was there, and was happy to see me - he said he was hoping I'd come back. He offered me pizza again, but I told him I would be cooking my dinner as soon as I got home (which was true, but I would have refused that nasty pizza anyhow!).

I sat down, and he showed me a letter he'd been writing. The writing was very primitive - it may have been that he was trying to write with a broken finger. The letter was to a buddy who was in prison for life. The buddy had already been in for about 20 years. He read to me from the letter - he mentioned a "chick" and her dog that he'd met. He hadn't seen his buddy since the prison term began.

Bill sang a few more songs to me. I tried a bit to talk to him, but he really seemed to prefer to sing. So I waited a few songs, and then said I had to be going. It was getting dark and I needed to cook. I was glad I had visited, though, and hoped I'd get a chance to come again.

Bill Gone

The next time I checked the woods for Bill and his tent, the area was cleared out. Both tents were gone. There was some trash, and the camp chairs were still there. I was really disappointed. I had hoped to keep visiting Bill, but it was getting colder, and I thought that maybe Bill had moved onto the next destination, be it shelter or a warmer climate.

When I'd told Ian about Bill, I'd realized that Bill looked kind of like Dennis Hopper, and that's how I described him.

Quick Glimpse on the Street

A while later, Ian and I were driving out of town on N. Main St, and I saw Bill biking in the other direction on the sidewalk. I honked at him and waved. I asked him where he'd gone, and he said he'd moved about a mile up the river. His description of the exact location was vague, but I figured I'd get a chance to look for him later. I was happy to see him.

Looking for Bill

On Saturday, November 6th, I took a bike ride that was part workout, and part adventure. I sort of looked for a tent on my way out of town, going through Bandemere Park. But I wasn't going slow enough to see one if it was at all hidden. So on my way back, I made more of an effort. I meandered very slowly, looking all along the train tracks, but saw nothing.

Then I crossed the river by way of the dam and looked at his old site, but nothing was there. Then I looked along the train tracks going towards the train station, but saw nothing. I tried a path along the part of the river between Argo Pond and the Broadway bridge, but saw nothing. Finally, since it was getting pretty cold and late, I gave up my search for his tent.

I thought he might have moved into the shelter, although I doubted it. He didn't seem like the kind to want to live in an institutionalized setting. Nevertheless, I left a message for him at the shelter saying hello, and giving my office phone number. I haven't heard from him yet.

15 Minutes

... of fame. There was a write-up in the paper today (November 16th) about Bill. He is now pitching his tent in a woman's (I think his boss') yard. All the facts of the article added up to what he's told me. The only thing I didn't already know about him is that he's an ex-con. But the article confirms what I already knew - that he's a good and trustworthy man, regardless of his past.

Probably the reason I could not find him is that he and his tent have been kicked out of several unsanctioned areas by police, so he was finally able to find this private property on which to camp. But the location given in the article was specific enough for me to find him.

He will be packing up soon to leave for the warmer climate of Texas, but he'll be storing his tent up here, so I think he'll be back. If I want to see him before he leaves, I must do it soon.

Missed Opportunity

I intended to find Bill before he left town, but it never happened. Each night, before I went to the YMCA, I thought to myself that it would be a good time to find him "at home". Yet I did not seek him out. As the weeks went by and temperatures dropped, I knew that it became less and less likely that I'd see him. Also, we'd misplaced the newspaper section which contained the article about him.

Finally, sometime in early December, I made time to look for him. I was on my bike, and went to the supposed corner. I knew that he'd been shacking up in the yard of a house across from the church at a certain corner. I looked all around that corner at the houses, and saw very little in the way of yards. That area houses mostly rental properties. Any yards that I did see were emtpy of tents.

I even spoke to a man on a porch about Bill - asking him whether he'd heard about a guy staying in someone's yard. He'd heard of no such thing. So I was not to see Bill again unless he returned to Ann Arbor and I ran into him in my travels.

I wondered to myself what had kept me from seeking him out. Could there have been a reason I did not make a greater effort to find him? I'd cared so much on that one day back in November that I'd spent the better part of an hour looking for him. What had changed?

I realliy don't know. But I do hope that he returns next year and that I have a second chance at building that friendship.