Skip to main content

The Man Behind the Fence

In this episode, The Man Behind the Fence . . .

The crisp morning air invigorated me as I exited the Ford dealership. At 7:00 a.m., my service representative, Jim, assured me my truck would be ready in about two hours. With the sun shining brightly and the temperature a cool 49 degrees, I decided to stroll through the quaint Vista Village downtown area.

The only signs of life away from the main street intersections were the ducks playing in the park's stream, service trucks tending to the area, and litter collectors. The peacefulness of the morning was interrupted only by the gentle hum of an occasional passing car. The aroma of freshly baked goods drifted through the air, drawing me to Danny's Donuts, founded in 1973.

From the walk-up window, I ordered a cup of coffee and a blueberry cake donut, a classic combination that never fails to satisfy me. As I found a cozy spot in a slightly wobbly chair on the outdoor patio, a young man with a beard and cheerful yet somber demeanor approached me. His bare feet were tucked into well-worn, hole-ridden socks (no shoes). Despite his appearance, he spoke with a surprising degree of respect, asking for a dollar to buy a hot cup of coffee.

My initial instinct, shaped by years of living in Los Angeles and New York City, was to be wary. Panhandlers often used deceptive tactics to obtain money for illicit purposes. However, I obliged; this young man's sincerity was evident as he walked directly to the counter and purchased a cup of coffee. “Thank you”, he said.

This simple act sparked a thought in my mind: How many individuals struggling with homelessness rely on the kindness of strangers for their daily sustenance, let alone a place to sleep? As I finished my coffee and donut, I watched him walk away, disappearing behind a fence at the end of the parking lot.

A wave of sadness washed over me as I recalled my early days (1985) in California, walking the streets of Venice Beach and observing the homeless population. I had naively hoped that such a fate would never befall me.

As I continued my walk back to the Ford dealership, I couldn't shake the image of this young man. His story is a stark reminder of the challenges many face in our society, and it has inspired me to be more compassionate and understanding.

My hope is that it inspires you, too.

Comments

Most Popular of All Time

That Fateful Four-Letter Word

In this episode, A Masterclass in Efficiency. For nearly four months, the western border of our property has stood as a living monument to determination, dubious planning, and forensic-level lumber acquisition. Since February, our neighbor Steve has been conducting what can only be described as a masterclass in deliberate calculation. This was never going to be one of those slick home-improvement shows where a cheerful pair of men installs a fence between commercial breaks, sipping lemonade. No. This was real life in retirement. We scaled the vertical wilderness of our hillside. We mixed concrete with the precision of medieval alchemists. We bled, we sweated, and we fought hand-to-hand with a buried tree stump that had the structural integrity of a Cold War bunker. By this week—May 16th, for those keeping score—the glorious end was finally within reach. The fence stood proudly, the line was straight, and victory practically hummed in the air. Only one major task remained: installing t...

Truth for Sale

This episode is inspired  by Elton John & Bernie Taupin On Memorial Day, I took my first bike ride  since the accident , seeking proof that my legs, lungs, and nerves still remembered the road. The morning air carried that familiar Southern California mix of ocean haze, exhaust, eucalyptus, and sun-baked asphalt. My tires hummed across pavement I’ve ridden for years. Somewhere between the steady click of the chain and the rhythm of my breathing, Elton John and Bernie Taupin’s The Captain and the Kid found its way into my ears. There’s a strange kind of magic when the cadence of a ride syncs perfectly with a song you know by heart. Suddenly, the music and lyrics stop being background noise and become a lens. And through that lens, the road started talking. I've been cycling on this road some, Can't help feeling I've been showing my friends around. I've seen it grow from next to nothing, To a giant eatin’ up our town. Called up the tealeaves and the tarots, Asked the...

When Nature Comes to You

Sometimes the best way to experience the world isn’t to go searching for it, but to sit still and let it come to you. Lately, the view from my reading chair has become a vibrant little stage. Our backyard feeder has drawn a steady parade of wildlife—bold flashes of blue from the Western Scrub Jays, brilliant bursts of color from the Hooded Orioles, and Purple Finches—transforming quiet afternoons into a chorus of motion and song. But the most captivating performance unfolds just inches beyond my window. For the past couple of weeks, a young hummingbird mother has been perched on her tiny, beautifully woven nest. Hummingbirds usually seem made of pure nervous energy, yet here she is: perfectly still, patient, and devoted. Watching her quiet vigil - day after day - has felt almost magical. Life seems to be blooming in every direction right now, renewing itself in real time. It’s a gentle reminder to slow down, look outside, and notice the quiet miracles surrounding us. John Muir once wro...

The Eighth Wonder of the Suburban World

Mark your calendars, folks. Update the history books. Notify the Smithsonian. Move over, Pyramids of Egypt. Step aside, Hoover Dam.  Future civilizations will speak of this day in hushed, reverent tones. May 22, 2026, will forever be remembered as the moment humanity reached the pinnacle of suburban engineering excellence. Earlier today, my neighbor Steve and I drove the final screw into what can only be described as the most overbuilt property divider in North County. The Fence! And then there’s the gate. Good grief, the gate. Calling it just a gate is almost disrespectful. It looks like the entrance to a medieval fortress or to Hogwarts Castle. It swings open with the heft of a bank vault and closes with the wave of a magic wand. At this point, we’re considering applying for FAA clearance to install a helicopter pad on top of it. This glorious odyssey began in early February, the primitive era. From the start, we made a sacred pact: we would not become one of those people. You ...