By Ted Furlow

 It was 6 a.m. on a cold Saturday morning when I saw him wrapped in a dirty blanket and sitting on a concrete planter. I first noticed while we were unloading gear from my car; setting up to cook breakfast for the homeless people in Lincoln Park, and even from the curb I could see that he was emaciated, shivering in the cold, covered with nasty lesions, and alone.