True Homeless Stories

The Story of Sean, 47

Published: June 5, 2009

I first saw Sean sitting with his back to a building, his legs stretched out with the casual tranquility of an uncluttered mind. He grinned widely - almost inanely - as he snacked on a piece of dried, flaky bread.

I approach him and introduce myself. His lips begin to move as though he were trying to talk to me, but for the life of me I can’t hear any words over the city’s clamour. I bend down on my knee. I can hear him now, but just barely. He speaks with a strained, hoarse voice, at a slightly high pitch. We enter a coffee shop and sit down.

Sean has a youthful exuberance to him that coincides with his love of music and art. He explains how he grew up around music, his mother and father both majoring in music in college. He loves all kinds of music, from opera to raggae and rock music. In the summer, he loves to sit in the grass and listen to the free concerts in Rittenhouse Square.

Sean is very intelligent. He has an almost encyclopedic memory of his life from early childhood onward, and has an impressive grasp of art and music history. He spends a lot of time reading at the free library, and laughs when he tells me how the guards always kick him out for sleeping.

If he’s still at the library when it closes, he’ll sleep somewhere outside in the museum district. He tries to find some trees or a statue to sleep under, so that people don’t throw things at him or yell at him to get a job. Lately, he’s been in center city. It was cold last night, so he slept on a heat vent behind a bar on Spruce.

He explains to me how he’s struggled with drug addiction for most of his life. He recently relapsed, and is currently seeking help at a detox program in the city.

Despite all of this, he’s incredibly optimistic. He knows that he can still make it and get back on track. I ask him how he feels about all that’s happened to him. “It’s been a long life, it’s been a great life,” he says.

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