Open Door
Success Stories

Old Cowboys Need Love, Too.

He came straight out of a 50's Western and through our front door. He was Prescott's version of Gabby Hayes. He was a frail old man, bent with age, but people parted like the Red Sea as he walked through the room.

It had easily been 2 weeks since he took his last shower, and his clothes could have stood up unaided. He was a first-time visitor to Open Door.

A regular guest called me over for a conversation. “Can you get this guy to put on clean clothes? He's already been kicked out of every place in town. Nobody can stand to be around him.” I promised to see what I could do.

I could see that nothing we had in our clothing room would take the place of his treasured wardrobe, complete with leather chaps. This was his “cowboy” identity. It was going to be a delicate matter.

By the time I gathered up socks and underwear, he was taking his turn in the shower. A young volunteer, with his hand over his mouth and nose, rolled his eyes as I knocked on the shower room door.

“I'm almost done. I'll be right out,” the old cowboy promised.

“There's no hurry,” I assured him. “I brought you clean socks and underwear. I'll just put them here outside the door.”

“I'm ok, Ma'm, I don't need them,” he answered.

“They don't cost anything. They're free,” I said.

“Well, alright then. Thank you, Ma'm.”

The items disappeared through a slight opening of the door. Progress was being made.

Later, he came out clean, with his hair washed, but the same worn outer clothing left him smelling pretty much the same as before.

“Here is a little laundry soap,” I told him as I handed him a small bag, “and this voucher will pay to wash your clothes at the Laundromat.”

He thanked me and took the offered items, putting them in his backpack. As he headed toward the lunch line, again, people gave him a wide space.

I got gloves and disinfectant as discretely as possible, and began cleaning the shower for the next person in line. I scrubbed the shower, walls, floor, doorknob, light switch, all the time thinking of lice and giving in to a bit of psychosomatic itching.

Somehow, as I worked, itching turned into meditation. I thought of lepers of Bible times, victims of HIV/Aids in my generation and the elderly, incontinent child of God who sat down to a modest lunch as I cleaned.

How long had it been since someone had come close enough to touch him, I wondered? I removed the rubber gloves as I finished my task and returned to the dining area. He was bent over his meal when I put my hand on his shoulder.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” I asked, “Do you have everything you need?”

“Yes, Ma'm. Thank you. I do.” His slow, quiet, Oklahoma accent reminded me of my own father. I gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze and went back to work.

Walking away, I thought of a bit of scripture:

But give for donations to the poor of those things which are within and behold, everything is purified and clean for you.
Luke 11:41

Diane Iverson
Co-director, Open Door through 2005

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Last updated on 02/07/2006
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