It was windy

By White Baron
Our unequalled [sic] friend Skyman, semi-newbie Roswell (formerly known as Brother Keeper), and latest addition to the lifestyle, Kitty-Kat went out loaded up with several bags of snack-food, and basic hygiene. More common patrols begin after hours, but we got ourselves started around prime time, finding the usual sleeping places uninhabited. In the future, I think starting later might let us find more of those in need.
Reaching the end of the viaduct, a sight-impaired fellow with a cane had just exited the Ferry, and allowed us to help him find his bus stop. Afterwards [sic], we climbed the hills of Pioneer Square to reach a large regular multiple encampment, and discovered a few sleepers, and 2 or 3 more elaborate tents. The inhabitants, who recognized Skyman and myself, informed us that the police routinely move everyone out of this area at certain times of the day, which forces them to sleep under a nearby bridge, or the nearest wooded areas, or wherever hasn’t been taken by someone else.
We checked the sloped woods near the bridge, and saw no-one. Then, upon shining a spotlight under the bridge, the few camped there waved back to us, thankfully unintimidated [sic] by our attention. The portion of the chain-link fence bent down to allow access to the level area posed a challenge, as it was directly across the street without any signage that permitted pedestrian entrance. Skyman and Kitty took admirable initiative by racing across the busy street to meet the people, who came down to the fence to accept our goods.
Going back through the downtown parks and finding no one else at the time, we wanted to be sure to give the viaduct one last sweep, as it was close to midnight. We found widower Kevin, a man with a foam plastic bed, a wool blanket, a paper grocery bag of his own food, and chapped, cracked hands that startled me a bit. He explained that one heart-attack had bankrupted him onto the street, and having given his house to his daughter and her husband before the medical issues, was simply too proud to go them for help. I asked him what he did need, to which he answered, “Can you give me a new life?” I didn’t know what to say, and waited for the others to start talking with him to cover my embarrassment. He accepted a few band-aids, and reminded us that there were Third World children who would give anything to have what he had.
Perspective.
Finally, back at our starting point, we found 2 people. Kristine, who needed clothes, blankets and socks, provided courtesy of Kitty; and a sleeping man, camped several paces away, who awoke during our interaction with her. She remembered us form the larger meet up a month earlier. Kristine asked us to please stay and watch over her as she slept, and I explained that we couldn’t this time. We were parked close by, and as we were just about to call it a night, we overheard an argument. The man was accusing Kristine of stealing his lighter, and she called to us to intervene. I shone my spotlight just above the man so as not to seem directly threatening. “Listen, we’re not police, but we’re more than happy to call them. Cool it, alright?” He calmed down immediately. We maintained our distance throughout, and saw Kristine move her own gear away into the night.
Update: During the final stretch, Roswell accidently [sic] lost his phone. The next morning, I received a series of calls from our friend Kevin. He had picked it up, and was good enough to offer to return it.