Thursday, October 1, 2026
On a Saturday afternoon in mid-December, I was driving through downtown Olympia when I saw a gray-haired man sprawled on his back on the sidewalk, motionless, his head just inches from the curb. A steady stream of cars was gliding past. The light turned red, and everyone stopped, but no one opened a car door.
My mind jumped like popcorn: Wasn’t anyone going to help? Was he alive? Conscious? Overdosed? Had he broken something or had a heart attack?
Do we live in a time and a town where, if you fall, no one will help? This felt like a red alert.
The light changed, and cars started moving, mine among them, but my mind was on fire. Halfway through the intersection, I realized the first parking space in front of me was open. Clearly, I was being called. I pulled in and parked.
I walked back to where he was lying and knelt beside him. His eyes were closed, his body was askew. I knelt closer, and thought I could detect a faint small breath. I asked him loudly “Can you take a deep breath?” His eyes opened a little and I heard a definite shallow breath. Then his eyes closed again. I whipped out my phone and dialed 911. I decided to stay with him until medics showed up.
He was very cold, hatless, and had a few shopping bags around him. I put my hands over his, in an attempt to warm them. I kept telling him help was on the way. I asked his name, but his answer was too faint to hear, and his eyes stayed mostly closed. I kept talking, to try to keep him connected. A few minutes passed.
A man’s voice behind me said “I have Narcan if you need it.”
Narcan is the opioid overdose reversal drug, but he was breathing more steadily now, his eyes opening now and then. I turned to say thanks, but I didn’t think he needed it. To my surprise, a few people had gathered behind me on the sidewalk. A woman offered a warm knit hat. I took it, leaned forward and lifted his head, and pulled it on. Another woman magically produced a warm fuzzy blanket and we covered him. Maybe those items came from his bags; I’ll never know.
The red alert in my mind faded to pink: Yes, some people in our town care enough to stop and offer help. What a relief.
Then one of the small group of women behind me noticed something I hadn’t: he had fallen on his cane, and it was hurting his back. She thought we should get it out from under him. She stepped to his side, and I put my arms around him and lifted his head and torso up enough for her to pull it out. He still wasn’t talking, but his face relaxed; he looked relieved.
The congregation of women lingered as we waited for the medics, which felt like a long time. A waitress reluctantly went back to work. A man from the adjacent bar came out and told us: “He’s very proud that he’s Irish, his name is Sean, he goes by Seanie. He spends time here; we know him.”
About then, two big, all-business medics showed up and went right to work getting his temperature and blood pressure. Within a couple of minutes, the congregation dispersed.
The medics knew Seanie too. He was what they call a frequent flier. I asked what they were going to do with him. “Take him to the hospital,” one said.
I squeezed Seanie’s hand and said goodbye. Later I regretted not asking which hospital they were taking him to. Even without words, my connection to Seanie had been intense. But the medics were so large and in charge I thought my job was done. Maybe it was.
But I went back a couple of weeks later to talk to the bar owner. He said he was a little worried about Seanie because he hadn’t been around for a few weeks, after hanging out there frequently for the past three years.
“He’s slowed down quite a bit in the last year or year and a half,” the bar owner reported.
He described Seanie as a quiet, respectful guy who didn’t make trouble. Seanie had talked about skills with metal, and the bar owner thought maybe he’d been an artist or jeweler. He was a drinker, and though he occasionally showed up clean and in new clothes after an extended absence, he never seemed to stay in any program or housing situation very long.
The bar owner thought he’d had a different life before he became homeless. Was it mental illness or addiction that sent him over the edge? Some devastating trauma or tragedy? He didn’t know.
It was a relief to know that Seanie has connections — with people at the bar whose door he sleeps in front of, with the medics who come when he needs them, and, according to the bar owner, other downtown business people and the Olympia Crisis Response Unit and Familiar Faces team.
But Olympians are pretty inconsistent about loving our neighbors. Quite a few people drove by without stopping. And local comment sections and social media are often stained with contempt for people who are homeless. It’s also true, of course, that some homeless people are obnoxious and/or criminal.
A lot of our neighbors — both homeless and housed — are hard to love.
But on that Saturday afternoon, a group of people stopped for a fallen, elderly, helpless and homeless stranger. On that day, Seanie was loved by his neighbors in a way that might make our Creator think she isn’t a failure.
6 comments on this item Please log in to comment by clicking here
kellykelly
Sometimes, it takes just one person to stop and other helpers come. Thank you for being that one person this time.
Friday, January 9 Report this
VDRAKE2
That's a beautiful story. And it speaks to a problem in downtown Olympia. I had an experienced recently at the Bread Peddler going in the store I noticed a man who was slumped over in the middle of the sidewalk. A few minutes later when I came out, he was still in the same position. Standing, squatted down a little bit, hunched over with his arms hanging down. His eyes were closed and he swayed back n forth. I asked him if he was okay asked "do you need some help" he didn't respond. I went on to my car I noticed a cop was coming in. I stopped the cop and told him. He said "thanks I'll check it out" and as I looked back the cop was standing by him. I don't know what happened to him. I don't know what more I could have done for this guy. He seemed to be in some control to be standing like he was. We see this a lot in our community now and it worries both of us. I'm not sure how I could make it better. For us though we don't go out much anymore because of it. It's not apathy it's self preservation.
Friday, January 9 Report this
Honestyandrealityguy
Nice to stop. But, not everyone will do the right thing when people try to help. Common sense please.
Friday, January 9 Report this
Porter
I know Sean. He told me he's going to get a place to stay through the gov't and work with Ethos to design jewelry. This was a couple months ago. Haven't seen him since.
Saturday, January 10 Report this
SusanF
Your act of kindness inspired me this morning.
Saturday, January 10 Report this
Snevets
Thank you for your humanity.
Saturday, January 10 Report this