Homeless To Helper

Tim Botos: CANTON — With steely eyes and a scraggly beard visible through layers of shirts, jackets, coats and hats, the man emerged from a soup kitchen. He cast a long shadow beneath a streetlight as he trudged along a sidewalk.

"Myron! … Hey, Myron!" Deb Kellogg shouted, as she scurried after him.

Blankets as soft as satin folded under both her arms, she caught up to him along Third Street NE. She poked his back. He turned with a puzzled look. Myron, she said, is one of the area's few — if not the only — sleep-on-the street, year-round homeless men. Once, she asked him why he didn't seek better shelter. He told her he preferred his cardboard box.

"Remember me?" she asked.