Russell died earlier this year. He was sixty-three, but looked ten years older. That’s what living in the woods will do to you. He was a big man physically and as I was to find out, he was a big man if you measured the kindness he showed to so many.
I wondered how Russell withstood below-freezing temperatures especially that time around Christmas several years ago when someone stole his propane heater while he was asleep in his tent. I didn’t see how he could stand the blistering Virginia heat that’s been getting worse every year.
When he got kicked out of transitional housing because of a developing illness and was forced back into the woods, I didn’t think he’d survive. I and others brought him food as he stayed in his tent. On the occasion that he had a doctor’s appointment at the free clinic, he’d have to walk down a steep ravine. His gait had become very unsteady. I can remember helping him navigate the path and supporting him as sweat poured down both of us. I felt like I was carrying Jesus and fought with my all to keep him steady. After I’d take Russell back up to his tent, I’d return to my car and cry.
Before I met Russell six years ago, I had little idea what it was like to live in the woods: extreme temperatures, rain, snow, with only torn canvass and tarps protecting you; little food, old clothes, substance abuse, physical danger lurking, assistance progr ...
