this time of year always catches me on the verge of sentimental. last night on my way to my exercise class, i got all teary because i passed the Can Man riding his bike up the highway in the dark. it was 22 degrees outside.

i have an ongoing fascination with the Can Man. he is an older guy, probably 60, with a long gray beard (you know i love grizzly looking dudes with beards) and long gray hair. he rides his bike around and collects cans. all year long. all day long.

he stops at the grocery store every night around 5:30 to get a couple bags of groceries, then he puts them on his handlebars and rides up the highway past the turn to our house. i don't know where he goes. i'd really like to know.

sometimes we are at the grocery store at the same time. i always try to catch his eye and smile at him. once i got up the guts to talk to him. i told him i see him riding his bike and told him he must be in great shape. he told me that's why he started riding his bike in the first place. the way he said it made me think that riding his bike all day, every day, is a choice--that at some point in his life, something happened that made him choose this way of life. i told him to have a good night, and he said "i'll do my best." i was dying to know more. i just didn't feel right asking.

i think about him all the time. i wonder about his story. where he lives. what his name is. if he has any family. last night i was listening to Christmas music and decided i should do something for the Can Man. what would happen if i invited him to dinner? Christmas Eve dinner? i need to be his friend first, right? i don't know if i have the guts to do it. but maybe i will have the guts to find out his name. maybe he'll tell me his story. every time i pass the Can Man, i say a prayer for him. maybe that's enough for him.

somehow, it's just not enough for me.