Homeless, but not friendless: Remembering ‘Mac’ of Morristown

The Morristown Train Station in the snow. Photo by Berit Ollestad
The Morristown Train Station in the snow. Photo by Berit Ollestad
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Editor’s note: Marvin McDonald, described by police as homeless, was  found dead on a bench outside the Morristown Post Office on March 21, 2015.  The Morris County Prosecutor’s Office has not yet released results of its investigation, although authorities said the death did not appear to be suspicious. Here is a remembrance of ‘Mac.’

The Morristown Train Station in the snow. Photo by Berit Ollestad
‘Mac’ silhouetted against the Morristown Train Station in the snow. Photo by Berit Ollestad

By Berit Ollestad

Dear Mac,

It was such a pleasant surprise to see you the other Thursday in town. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that you can be pretty elusive. But I figured out fairly quickly, after a few conversations with you, that you like “your elusive status.”

I was able to come up with another pair of overalls for you. I remember when we crossed paths at the train station in early February. You were seeking shelter from the cold and I was taking pictures of the freshly fallen snow. I approached you and asked if you’d like a cup of hot coffee. With a little bit of hesitation you said yes.

So, I popped my trunk and made us each a cup of coffee and we started talking about life and all of its intricacies.

It took awhile for me to figure out that you were homeless. You had a relatively small suitcase next to you and initially I thought you were just passing through town. You were so well spoken and articulate; you just didn’t seem to fit the stereotype.

But after awhile, it dawned on me that you were in fact homeless. I think one of the first questions I asked you after we developed a comfort level with one another was, “Are you comfortable with your current living situation?”

Although I don’t remember your specific answer,  I do recall you stated that you had made the conscious decision to be homeless. You didn’t leave me with the impression that living on the street was easy and without difficulties. But what I did get from you was the appreciation you had for not being tied down or encumbered.

I couldn’t believe the depth of your knowledge about the history of Morristown. I told you I only knew one other person in town with such a grasp of local history, and she is close to 80.

As I was getting ready to leave I asked if there was anything I could pick up for you?

“No thanks, I like to travel light,” you said. Finally, after some prodding, you said you could use a pair of  size 13 boots, overalls and ibuprofen.

Overalls for Mac. Photo by Berit Ollestad
Overalls for Mac. Photo by Berit Ollestad

I understood the boots, and the ibuprofen was for a knee injury you said you had suffered in the military. But the overalls kind of threw me. Then you told me they were useful for handyman jobs you would pick up here and there.

I asked where I could deliver the items, and you said, “I spend my afternoons over at the county library.”

You went on to say you didn’t like the element of people who had started to overtake the town library. I didn’t ask any questions and just smiled. You smiled back.

As I was leaving, I was trying to figure out how to capture the pleasant experience I had talking with you in front of the train station. I didn’t want to cheapen it by asking you for a photo (though now I sort of wish I did).

So, I decided to stand back and take a picture of the train depot with your silhouette off to the side. Nobody would know anyone was there without looking really close. But I knew and that was all that mattered. It’s kind of ironic, but that picture of the train station and sunrise over Morristown (which you suggested) seemed to be people’s favorite photos from that morning.

Just like I told you, I knew some very kind-hearted people who helped me get the items you requested.  Like you, this friend of mine likes to fly under the radar. She doesn’t even live locally. But I can always count on her.

She and I met for coffee and she handed me a bag with a new pair of overalls, boots, money for gift cards, laundry cards, ibuprofen, hand warmers and a personalized card, all especially for you.

Items collected for Mac... who said he chose homelessness. Photo by Berit Ollestad.
Items collected for Mac… who said he chose homelessness. Photo by Berit Ollestad.

I had a lot of fun stuffing all the pockets of the overalls with these goodies. You were like a kid at Christmas. I’m so grateful I was able to get you on the phone with my friend, so you could share your excitement with her. Later she told me it made her day to know you were so happy with everything. I took a picture to show her.

I also need to apologize for reading the card intended for you. Typically I’m more respectful and wouldn’t do something like that. But I guess my curiosity got the best of me. It was such a poignant letter and so heartfelt.

I hope it brought you some peace to know how so many people in the community felt. I still have another bag of items for you in my trunk. When I saw you at the soup kitchen I told you I’d stop at the library later that afternoon, but things got busy.

I’m so sorry I never made it; hope I didn’t disappoint you. Hopefully, in the short period of time that our paths crossed, I was able to convey to you that you were special to me and that your life mattered. I never could have imagined that within 48 hours of seeing you at the soup kitchen, you would meet your untimely fate in front of the post office.

God Bless You. Rest in Peace, Mac … I’ll miss that 1000-watt smile of yours.

Your friend from the train station
Berit

A note to Mac from a Good Samaritan. Photo by Berit Ollestad
A note to Mac from a Good Samaritan. Photo by Berit Ollestad
I said 'oh my gosh' you're right! I've been so busy talking, I almost missed it.' Then we both started to laugh. Photo by Berit Ollestad
Mac said, ‘Hey look at how beautiful that is. You should take a picture of that.’
I said, ‘Oh my gosh, you’re right! I’ve been so busy talking, I almost missed it.’ Then we both started to laugh. Photo by Berit Ollestad

8 COMMENTS

  1. Berit, this is a beautiful tribute written from your heart. If his family sees it I believe they will be touched by your kindness and your caring sensitivity as to who Mac was.

  2. What a touching, exquisite remembrance.
    Thank you for sharing.
    I’m not sure or not if I met Mac, but there are dozens of other folks scattered and hidden throughout Morristown. And in Life in general.
    Some have a very fragile, tenuous connection with life as we know it.
    As you walk through Morristown, please keep your eyes and your heart open.

  3. Berit great story you care about people and do so many things to help people and listen to people when they need to talk that is a great way to be.
    You are always giving help that is needed that makes you a great lady.

  4. When Kevin (editor of MG) found out that I knew Mac and that I was writing a letter to honor his memory, to post on FB. He contacted me and asked ‘if I’d like to put it up on the Morristowngreen.com web-site. I had to pause and think about it for a minute and decide if it was the right thing to do. Although, I didn’t know many of the details about his family, I knew he surely had family members that loved him and probably worried about him being on the street and most certainly are devastated by his passing.
    So, the last thing I wanted to do was bring additional pain to his family by focusing on his death. Therefore, after giving it some thought, I decided I wanted to focus on how he lived and how much I was going to miss him. It’s my hope that if his family should happen to read my letter, it’ll give them a small sense of comfort to know that ‘Mac was happy until the end and he emanated a sense of inner peace’ that I felt each time I saw him. I also didn’t want his legacy to be ‘the guy they found in front of the post office’. His name was Mac (well, I should say ‘that’s how he introduced himself to me. But many others knew him as Marvin) He was a veteran, he loved Morristown, he made a difference in the lives of many and he’ll be missed by more people than he probably could’ve ever imagined.
    Lastly, this is just one more reminder (as if I needed more reminders) to not wait too long to tell the people in your life what they mean to you. When I didn’t make it over that Thursday afternoon to the library, I said to myself “I’ll just catch up with Mac in a couple of days”. Less than 48 hours later it was too late. Someone made the comment that “there are gentle souls who grace the world with their presence and we don’t even know they are walking amongst us “. They were referring to Mac…

  5. Speaking of poignant letters, Berit, I couldn’t have been more touched than by yours – and YOUR sensitivity and giving spirit. May the Lord bless you and keep you…and Mac.

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