Pandemic can’t stop Men’s Street Ministry from warming hearts — and bodies — on Christmas morning
A homeless man walks up to a food truck in downtown Hamilton and asks if there's hot chocolate. His hands are chapped and cheeks beet red. It's cold and snowy.
We've got coffee," says Roger Boyd, who operates Men's Street Ministry out of a trailer towed by a pickup. How do you take it?"
Double-double."
OK, here, and take this," says Boyd, handing the man a cup of coffee, a pair of leather gloves and a care package with toothpastes and soaps, socks and hand-warmers, snacks and sandwiches.
It's one of a dozen blessing bags" Boyd and his wife, Janet, have given out early Christmas morning in a parking lot on Jackson Street.
They had already been to the Salvation Army and expect to hand out another 100 packages to the city's most vulnerable by day's end, some at preplanned drop-off points and others at random.
As Boyd pulls out of the lot and onto Jackson - driving a trailer retrofitted to serve food and drinks, like turkey meatball soup and peameal bacon - a man hollers and waves him down.
Rog, you got my boots?" he says.
Yeah ... Size 11, right?"
Boyd stops on the middle of the road, gets out of the pickup and opens the trunk.
He asked for these last week," Boyd says, adding he likes to tailor gifts to those in need when possible. These are my people - I'll never drive by. I always stop."
Boyd's mobile ministry is a mainstay in Hamilton's homeless scene, dishing out some 600 to 700 meals on wheels a week.
Christmas, of course, merits a little extra.
For the past five years, Boyd, Janet and ministry volunteers have handed out thousands of care packages with essentials, blankets, sleeping bags and winter boots to those in need on Dec. 25.
A pandemic was never going to get in the way.
They need us now more than ever," says Boyd, getting back in his truck to round out the ministry's itinerary. A lot of agencies have closed up during COVID."
Around the corner from the parking lot, at a YMCA shelter on MacNab Street, David Allan waits on the sidewalk cold and sockless, his bare heels hanging out of a pair of running shoes.
Boyd grabs him some boots and offers a sleeping bag.
I've got one upstairs," says Allan, who's lived rough on-and-off for 32 years.
I grew up in a nice neighbourhood, both my parents worked," Allan adds. It means everything, getting something on Christmas."
A few more people trickle out of the shelter and grab soups and sandwiches before Boyd shuts the food trailer and starts the truck.
Sometimes, it's hit or miss, the number of people," he says.
The ministry's next stop is the Wesley Day Centre on Ferguson Avenue North, where a line of familiar faces await Boyd and Janet.
Food is the energy I need," says an elated Shawn Des, combing through his gift bag to find Nutri-Grain bars and Cheetos.
Des often sleeps in tents or street corners because shelters are at capacity. If it snows, he walks around with wet socks for days.
It's like walking on frozen water," Des says as he finds a pair of socks in the gift bag. I need my feet to breath."
That is part of the ministry's MO, says Boyd: to give people something of value, something of genuine need.
Not just food," he says, but whatever, like a sleeping bag or boots. That's why I carry all that stuff in the truck, just in case someone needs something they didn't get."
Willard Clarke stands in line outside the Wesley for some soup and clothes. He has seen Boyd every Christmas for the last four or five years, each at a shelter or on the street. Soon, though, he says he will move into an affordable one-bedroom apartment.
Clark says he is happy, and not just because of the pending move, but because Christmas, no matter the year or circumstance, is a reminder of the good people can do.
I'm happy not just for myself, but for everyone else," he says. Even people that aren't happy throughout the year, they're happy on Christmas, and it's thanks to people like Roger for taking the time to help others."
Sebastian Bron is a Hamilton-based reporter at The Spectator. Reach him via email: sbron@thespec.com