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I'm going to miss Barry, one of our neighborhood's homeless. My friends here call him "the rich homeless man" because he has a source of income, never asks for money, and is reluctant to take anything even if freely offered. I remember once he was counting change at McDonalds for a cup of coffee and he was short a dime or a nickel and I practically had to force him to take it -- something that I would do for any friend. When he bums smokes from you, you are certain to get a fresh pack from him some time down the road (or so I'm told). Barry is a pretty eccentric guy -- he used to have a dog until he was stolen, and his gait, clothes, and hair are always pretty creative. I understand that he reads quite a bit at the library, and he often paints while sitting on park benches along Foster Ave. (Wm. has one of his paintings, a gift from Barry). He goes to rock shows every once in a while, taking Wm. out for pizza and a punk show at Metro several years ago. He takes cross country trips when the urge strikes and Wm. has gotten post cards from him from Maine and Los Angeles, where Barry often winters. He owned an ice cream and philosophical book store in the neighborhood a long time ago... at least that's what he says. He really likes the Rolling Stones and he's almost always up for a chat. I'm not sure where he lives now, but he lived for years in a shack he built behind the Marine base along the canal, which the city would come and tear down periodically. We're pretty sure he was a vet and that the Marines give him some support, but that he probably has either a military pension or some kind of disability check coming in. I know that he does odd jobs for people, too. Anyway, Barry is a fixture in this neighborhood and I count him as some kind of a friend (albeit a unique friendship). I hope only the best for him and I hope he is happy. Nothing to not miss today.