Milton watched me leave a friend’s house in San Francisco. When I walked by him he said that he saw me leaving. He said he knew my friend and just about everyone else on the block, but hadn’t seen me before. He asked me if I was my friend’s father, which made me feel old.

This portrait is part of the $2 Portrait series on Flickr.

While they’re usually unpleasant to look at, awkward to talk to, and uncomfortable to think about, these people are part of the urban community. 66% of the homeless have unchecked mental health disorders and/or are substance abusers… and they’re stuck in a rut. You see, they’re a lot like you and me. For an estimated 3.5 million people in the U.S. they are you and me. Milton’s no exception.

More about Milton

Milton is 56 years old and was born in Memphis. Just a tad too young to get drafted for Vietnam he picked up early in life and moved to Colorado, then finally landed in California. His southern roots and time in Colorado make for a pleasing drawl.

He spent 14 years as a janitor, then moved up to becoming a security guard, which he did for 11 years.

In 2004 he severely broke his ankle after falling off a city park roof while fetching a boy’s Frisbee.

The accident set him way back and he wasn’t able to continue his job as a security officer. While he was in the hospital he lost his apartment, was unable to claim disability, and found himself homeless inside of 6 weeks. That’s the way it is for a lot of people. They’re just a paycheck, or so, from homelessness.

He started sleeping under a freeway overpass, and met a bunch of other homeless people who quickly took him under their wing and introduced him to the “art” of panhandling. Quickly, Milton was able to scrape enough money together to rent his own place. He knew he was going to make it.

Now he’s fallen into a rut. He knows he can earn enough panhandling to keep his place, he’s able to draw social security since he worked for 25 years, and he knows a lot of people in the neighborhood. He’s got a routine.

I spent 5 minutes talking with Milton and got this whole lowdown. He didn’t seem like he was delusional, or on drugs, but I could smell that he’d been throwing a few back.

While we were talking, the police walked up and started harassing Milton, asking him to quit panhandling in front of Walgreens and to move on. They used strong language, threatened him with arrest, and discouraged him from being on the street. Milton shrugged it off and said it was a daily occurrence.

Milton pushed his walker two blocks up, set his plastic Taco Bell drink cup on the ground and started over again. He said he normally works until 3:00 when he’s usually done, earning enough to get some food and pay for another week’s rent.