What a jerk?

A few years ago, around 2015, I was homeless and walking down a street lined with older buildings. It was a fairly busy area.

I noticed a man pulling grass from the foundation of one of these buildings, a building I happened to know something about.

I struck up a conversation with him, asking if it was indeed the old gymnasium for Benton High School, the very school I had attended. He confirmed it was, mentioning that writings still remained on the locker room walls on the third floor.

Curious, he asked how I knew this. I explained that learning the history of Saint Joseph was a hobby of mine and that I was a member of the National Museum Historical Society—which was true. I even mentioned having my own display at the Robidoux Row Museum.

I also shared that I had found numerous artifacts along the Missouri River and enjoyed donating them to the museum. The man seemed quite impressed.

He expressed interest in learning more about the building. I offered to use my connections to see if I could uncover more of its history.

I then asked him about his plans for the old building. He explained that the South End needed a one-stop shop, envisioning a combination grocery store, laundromat, and general store all in one place. He mentioned previously owning a successful gas station in downtown Saint Joseph, located at the corner where the Salvation Army now stands.

It was at this point that he made a comment that required a split-second decision. He stated that all the homeless people around his gas station needed to be rounded up and sent to Africa or somewhere similar.

One thing life has taught me is that appearances can be deceiving; what truly matters is a person's inner character and knowledge. Sensing that he already liked me, I decided to play along.

"Yeah," I said, "that would probably solve it."

He then lamented that he didn't have his key to the building, otherwise he would have taken me upstairs for a look around. Instead, we walked around the outside, where he pointed out cracks in the foundation and other necessary repairs.

Around back, he made sure to draw my attention to homeless individuals sleeping under an awning. "I see that," I replied, acutely aware of my own situation. I spent about an hour talking with him. He expressed interest in me doing some work on the building for him. We exchanged numbers, and he said he looked forward to getting in touch.

As we returned to the front of the building, he offered me a ride home.

This was my opportunity. "No, thank you," I replied. "I live just down here behind Sonic; my tent's in the trees."

I'm still waiting for his call.