Part 2 -- The Day I Met My First Homeless Person

We still had 150 miles to go – another stretch of Wyoming real estate with civilization poorly represented. The route took us past Shirley Basin, Medicine Bow, Rock River, and then to Laramie.
The elevation at Laramie, which hosts Wyoming’s only four-year state college, is 7,186 feet. A trip to Denver, the Mile-High City, is 1,900 feet downhill from Laramie. In mid-March, old snow is still clutching at dead lawns, and new snow via blizzards thick as bricks remains a possibility until sometime in May.
I felt lost and responsible with Ralph. He was physically a weathered old man, but gentle and vulnerable in his bearing. He told me he trusted God. When he first got into the car in Shoshoni, I remember him saying, as if to the dashboard, “I’m a Christian person, actually.” I think he was telling me not to be afraid. I wasn’t scared of Ralph, but I really didn’t know what I was going to do with him.
I drove to Hill Hall, parked, and asked Ralph to wait in the car. One of the guys I played Risk with on the floor above mine was a member of the Salvation Army Church in Laramie. I asked my friend what I was supposed to do with Ralph.
At this time, the Salvation Army operated a shelter in the downtown area. It was recommended that I take him there. I got the address and got back to the car. I turned the key to get us downtown, but my Vega was dead, electronically speaking.
My Risk playing friend didn’t have a car, so my next option was a friend, Dave, in the Sigma Alpha Epsilon fraternity house on campus. Between the two of us, we got Ralph to the downtown shelter.
I was focused on introducing Dave to Ralph, and telling Dave what all we had done that day. I don’t remember the look of the shelter, but the feel of it is still with me – more like an alley than a street. A broken, lonely atmosphere.
“Thank you very much for the ride and everything,” he said as he gathered himself and stepped to the curb. “You’re a very kind young man.”
Dave walked Ralph into the shelter. I stayed in the car. This didn’t feel right. It seemed like we were putting him in storage.
“Do you think he’s gonna be alright?” I asked Dave.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Hope so.”
“Yeah. Me too.”