I left the apartment on Thanksgiving Day to take my dog Ferris to the dog park, and to pick up some dinner for myself.

As I drove down Boissevain, I couldn’t help but look over to check on the group of homeless people that frequent the Stockley Gardens park adjacent to Christ & St. Luke’s Church. It appeared to be the usual suspects, hanging out on the wooden benches, going about their day like any other Thursday of the year. As I drove past the park I couldn’t help but feel thankful for my trusty 1997 Camry that I’ve driven since high school and my handsome hound dog, his head out the rear passenger window as far as it could go, his ears flapping as the cool wind blew in.

After letting Ferris run around and sniff butts at the Ghent dog park for a while, I grabbed my dinner from Farm Fresh (which was served to me by a woman who clearly was less than thrilled to be working on Thanksgiving) and headed home.  As I turned left off Olney onto Stockley Gardens I glanced back over at the park again. A man wearing a gray sweater stood in the back of a pickup truck. It appeared that he was handing out food to the homeless park-dwellers. As I got closer, I noticed there were multiple kindhearted folks handing out bags of supplies to the group.

Help.

As I approached the group, I noticed that people were handing out socks, hot water, cans of Natural light, Marlboro Lights rationed out in sandwich baggies, insulated long underwear, gloves and more. It turned out that Kevin Blair, owner of Hell’s Kitchen on Granby Street, has been doing these drop offs for the homeless in Norfolk every Thanksgiving for seven years.

Kevin estimated that they gave out $700 of goods to the homeless on Thanksgiving this year to about 50 people who call the streets of Norfolk their home.

What really touched me was that once all the socks, gloves, and cigarettes had been handed out, Kevin and his friends–Kelly Cote, Ginger Davenport, John Raab, and Melissa Janney–stuck around and began to socialize with the people from the park. Before long there were people gathered in a circle singing, dancing, and laughing. Songs were limited to what we knew off the top of our heads, songs like “Sitting on the Dock of the Bay” and “My Girl.” Though I don’t think we ever managed to finish a full song, we sure had fun mumbling what we thought might be the words; most of the laughing was due to our inability to remember more than the chorus of most songs and each other’s lackluster dance skills. One man (who preferred to remain anonymous) sat next to Kevin eating his Thanksgiving meal from a Styrofoam to-go box (much like the one my dinner from the Farm Fresh Deli came in). The man told Kevin about the time he spent in the armed services and then about his family.

Kevin and friends.

By the end of the story he was crying. I later asked Kevin what the man told him that evoked enough emotion to bring him to tears. Apparently the man was a successful Air Force veteran living in Arizona who was called back home to Virginia to take care of his ailing father. His father died in his arms, the man had nowhere to turn, and he has been on the streets ever since.

Even though the beer and cigarettes made me hesitate at first, Kevin and his friends were not just handing out material items to the homeless; they were there delivering something much more important this Thanksgiving: love and care to members of our community who often are looked down upon and treated as secondrate citizens. And if providing them their vices freed up more money for them to spend on necessities like food, bus passes, and personal hygiene products, that’s a good thing.

The guys getting down with Ginger.

“I make the deliveries because I was alone during the holidays six years ago,” Kevin told me. “I spent the day handing out care packages and I got a lot more out of it than I ever expected. I believe everyone deserves a little happiness in life and that’s why I do it.”

As I was going around introducing myself to Betty, Reggie, Doc, John, Ronald and the others from the park whom I pass by almost every day while Ferris and I take our daily walk, I felt disappointed in myself that I had never taken the time to stop and get to know any of the men and women who frequent a space so near my apartment. Before I left the park Thanksgiving Day, I made sure to shake hands with them and to try to learn their names.

Love.

It was more clear than ever that the folks who spend their days in Stockley Gardens are just as much my neighbors as the people living in the fancy Victorian house next door to my apartment. These are some very loving and giving people. Many of these people are veterans who have served the people of this country and deserve more than a cold wooden park bench to sleep on at night.

For more information on helping the homeless in Hampton Roads contact ForKids, or donate directly to ForKids here. You can also drop things by Stockley Gardens adjacent to Christ & St. Luke’s Church in Ghent during daylight hours. I’m sure the guys would appreciate it.