His voice was soothing me as I spent my first night in the shelter and didn’t know a soul. He was known as ‘Hobo Joe’ from spending most of his ...ife living on trains and in old abandoned shacks. He was an older gentleman, somewhere in his late 60’s. His hair was a beautiful shade of silver and was highlighted by his clear, blue eyes. He had a round face, full of ageless wrinkles and tanned golden-brown by the sun. As I spent that evening getting to know him, I found we had a lot in common. Our. He shook his head and went inside, ordered coffee and a club sandwich from the grumpy waitress behind the counter and sat there, waiting, hoping she would turn off the air conditioning before hypothermia set in. He cleaned his sunglasses while he waited for the coffee, then checked his email, hoping for a note from his son. As was almost always the case, there was nothing. He looked at his watch: just a little past noon, plenty of time to make it past Salt Lake City, maybe all the way to. More

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