His only possessions were what he managed to cram into his backpack. I’d see him sometimes, sitting on the grass out in front of the Kum and Go with a six pack of the cheapest beer he could find. He always waved and had a giant smile. Funny thing about him, he never panhandled like the rest of the homeless (or the pretend homeless) did. He didn’t carry the stench of alcohol around with him either. I always thought of him as more of a traveling Monk than homeless. Until he shot our neighbor’s dog for knocking over his beer.