Baby It's Cold Outside.

A hobo just walked past my window pulling a wagon with a massive sleeping bag rolled neatly in the wagon and a small dog at hobos side. The hobo was dressed in winter garb, a hat, over alls, and rubber boots. He pulled the little wagon behind him holding on to the wagon’s handle with both hands—his hands looks old, weathered and cold. The hobo’s hands looked like my dad’s hands when he would come in from feeding the cows “evening hay” in winter. I wonder if the hobo would wear gloves if he were given a set. I should carry an extra set of gloves for just the purpose. I wonder what he would do if I made such an offer.

My office is a couple of blocks the main shelter and soup kitchen and many hobos pass in front of my window daily. We are also just down the street from a major Salt Lake City park—Pioneer Park. This park is where a lot of the hobo’s spend their time when they have to be out of the shelters. The city is trying to take this park away from the hobos and the homeless(is that redundant) by gentrification. The new yuppies are taking over-