The biting December wind howled through the streets of San Francisco, cutting through Tom Wilson’s threadbare jacket like it wasn’t even there. At 73, he’d been living on these streets for the past five years, ever since medical bills from his wife’s cancer treatment had taken everything they had.
Tom huddled in his usual spot near the Tesla headquarters, his weathered hands clutching a cardboard sign that read: “Veteran—any help appreciated.” Most days, the well-dressed tech workers would hurry past, eyes glued to their phones. Tom didn’t blame them. He’d learned long ago that invisibility was part of being homeless.
That morning started like any other. Tom had just finished organizing the few possessions in his cart when he noticed a….Read Full Story Here……………….
