By Daniel Forbes
“Who gathers knowledge, gathers pain.” —Ecclesiastes
Did he gaze down in grudging approval on the disparate throng in a lovely gray chapel
Or was it all a bit much, a printed program even, two-hundred mourners usurping his story?
For one of many things Barry Sutton insisted on was writing his tale with his own pen
And just why did so many busy, accomplished, housed Portlanders gather thus
To mark the passing of a seeming no-account with no roof – it begs explanation
Therefore, permit a tale wondrous and strange from Melissa Nickerson.
She accompanied Barry and his unhealing leg to the Good Sam ER on NW 22nd
The day the poor hospital guard was killed
Gunshots rent the air up above, and then some were screaming hysterical
Security herding ER patients to the hospital’s depths
Having lived on the streets for fifty years, Barry remained calm, “He just went with it.”
After a time, they all washed ashore again on the ER’s hard plastic chairs
Barry soon announcing he was hungry, as he did when he was
Melissa returned with a sandwich – a loaf, we’ll call it
And soup, chowder maybe, she can’t recall – a stretch, why not?
Barry a couple of bites, a few slurps, and then a halt to laser Melissa
With “deep brown, very intense, very expressive eyes” and say
Everyone here must be hungry, I’ll see if anyone wants some food.
Worried over his feelings hurt: Oh, Barry, she thought, food already eaten by a homeless man?
He read her hesitation, acknowledged it with a nod, stuffed it in his pocket, and stood up
Forestalling Melissa with “the irrefutable goodness of his intent.”
And cruel Death near that day, God bless every person in that ER, she says
For they all took a bite of that sandwich and some soup. “They all said yes.”
One of the most moving things this chaplain has ever witnessed
Folks taking the offering from a homeless man still hungry
His alms complete, this “deeply compassionate” man sat back down at her side.
One reason among many to make music and reminisce, hundreds gathered to usher Barry forward
Five years slinging sandwiches to the hungry, Colin Wonnacott grew to know “Barry’s Superpower”
He knew people saw him as homeless, but no stigma stuck
Knew people looked at him askance, but never put 2 + 2 together
It wasn’t just his intellect that set him apart, but that houselessness didn’t rule his sense of self.
What’s more, many homeless are disconcerting, Colin says. But Barry’s gentleness allayed fear
Still, there was nothing child-like there. “He wasn’t a child.”
Rather, “his mask painted what was on his face.”
Those who got that, found a friend, Colin figures
A joyous friend with a touch of the prophet Elijah’s fly in the ointment.