I like to think it was the Ann Rule book

I saw Napoleon's dad yesterday.  He was alone -- no wife, no kitten. A solitary figure on a street corner, huddled against a street lamp, behind a sign that reads, "Homeless and ashamed," with a Big Gulp cup for collecting donations.He had his nose buried in a paperback.

If I understand his schedule, he leaves for Indiana tonight (Thursday), where he spends two days/week learning a new trade -- window washing. His goal is to first move to a shelter that affords regular access to running water and then, hopefully, an apartment. Once they live where they can dependably have clean hair and clothes, his wife will try to pass the Indiana boards so she can resume working as a cosmetologist.

Dad didn't see me. I'm glad. I didn't have any change for him -- the only bills in my purse were $5s and I couldn't afford that -- and I didn't really have time to talk. But it made me happy that he seemed so enthralled in that book. Earlier this week I gave him an Ann Rule book I found at my local Free Little Library. He loves books, especially true crime. Rule is an author he mentioned by name. I'm glad I could unite a book which might otherwise be discarded with a reader who will really concentrate on it. Win-win!