man of the memphis streets

josé davis is 53 years old.

“i never thought i’d see 50. then i saw 51. i saw 52. Lord, i never thought i’d see 53, but here i am.”

for 25 of those years, josé lived in a tennessee state penitentiary. he was convicted around the time he was 15. drug trafficking. embezzlement. food stamp fraud. and “what do you call it when you have too many weapons?” he’s homeless. he speaks with a soft rasp.

in prison, he got to know God. he says he’s known him for 30 years now.

“i’ll never let Him go. without God, life is like this (he hunches over, indicating the burden of life without his faith). this is just a stepping stone. others are blind, crippled.”

he got out of jail when he was 42.

“i’m here because of prayer warriors, angels. God’s angels. you’re a God-send angel because he sent you to me. an angel.” i’d given him a dollar. as he talked, i pulled my wallet for another buck. i asked him if i could make his picture.

“that’s right. a real, live homeless person. you let people know that there’s homeless people out here.”

then i gave him a third dollar. i asked him if he would mind my showing people his photograph. he said:

“no. you show ‘em – i’m somebody. you can put it in the paper. let ‘em know i’m somebody. i’m somebody.”

we turned east along beale street. at the corner somebody hooked left to go find breakfast, and i kept steppin' straight.