Yet another reason why I love my father.

A little random fact about my dad: He can make friends with just about anyone. I mean, anyone. Case in point: While walking down Main Street in Houston a few nights ago, a young homeless man (with a very foul mouth) approached me and my parents. He told us that he wanted some money for a beer, but instead of giving him anything, my dad asked the man his name and proceeded to make conversation.

Mom and I walked quietly behind as “White Mike”—the name that he called himself—shared his brief but unfortunate story of cocaine addiction. He looked to be in his mid-20s, only a few years older than me. Dad continued to ask him personal questions and listened to the answers with the utmost respect. If I wouldn't have known any better, I might have thought that they were old friends. When we arrived at our chosen dinner spot, I waited for my father by the entrance as he pulled a couple dollars out of his pocket and said goodbye to his new friend, after politely suggesting that use the money wisely and start looking for a job.

There’s no doubt in my mind that the young man went directly to the nearest liquor store to buy more booze. But my dad's reply to this was, “Well, at least he was honest.”