I gave a bum a diary.

Yesterday, while carrying a search for Chia Pets to CVS, I ran into a bum outside. He asked if I had any change while I glanced at his leg, or lack there of.

In my posession was two dollars and twenty-two cents. I gave him one twenty-two.

I wasn't pestered as I left CVS.

Earlier this morning, I went to Wal-Mart to buy a printer and some ink, and as I was entering, I again heard a request for change, from the same bum. I responded, "I gave you change yesterday, one twenty-two. I'm all out."

After selecting my printer and ink, while still in the store, I remembered the bum. I thought how I might be able to improve his life. I began walking around the store searching for an isle that struck me. The stationary isle was my calling.

I walked down the stationary isle with the intent of giving the bum something to log his days in, something to give his actions a purpose. Whether he has only moved towards another location, or decided to search for a job, it will all be logged in this journal that I gave him.

I looked for a moment and picked the best one. Oddly enough, I only saw the edge of it, as it was on the top shelf. After standing on my tippy-toes to get it down, I opened it. Several pages for phone numbers and addresses, then one page for every day of the year 2007. That's 365 pages, 366 if it's a leap year (I don't keep track).

I bought it, and handed it to him with a blue double-sided sharpie that I had in my pocket. I then spoke, "Here you go, have fun with it." Like an excited kid accepting a gift, he said "Alright! Yeah..." and began to look through it.

Struck with what I had done, I left quickly. Walked hasely to my car and drove off, giving him only a glance.

On the page titled July 17, I wrote "E. L. Pheterson's Birthday."

I've left a rather large footprint on the internet; if he looked, he could find me.