He sat in a wheelchair close to the side of the busy county road. It was my back roads route from the interstate to the family farm. Each time I passed by, the memory of his loneliness haunted me. I finally pulled over one day and met the old man. His family had left him and had taken almost everything he owned. Alcohol was his best friend. He had a little peanut butter and some shabby clothes. I knew where to get him a blanket and my husband was happy to raid his own closet for a few pairs of pants and sweaters to keep this man warm during the oncoming winter weather. After all, his electric bill was really past due. We will check on him again soon.