It’s a Chicago Sunday in mid November. To say that the Windy City is “cold,” is an understatement. The sun is out, but no match for the blistering, dry wind blowing in off Lake Erie which was making the temperature outside unbearable. All you are wearing are shoes with holes in them, jeans, and a t-shirt.

No one would go out dressed like that in those conditions, right? Wrong. For some people, it’s not a choice. 

Friday, November 17, 2017. I flew into Chicago’s O’Hare International airport with my dad, brother, and friend and drove the short hour to South Bend, Indiana. We had a busy weekend. On Saturday, we saw Notre Dame win at home against Navy. Our Sunday plans were to see the Bears face the Lions at home. 

The weekend went as planned and we saw two amazing games. After the Bears game, I saw several homeless people outside the stadium on our walk back to the hotel. From my past experience in cities, the homeless population is usually bundled up or taking shelter inside at that time of the year. One man, however, stuck out like a sore thumb. Ripped shoes, jeans, and a t-shirt. Initially when I passed him, he asked for money, which is typical. When I got a better look at him, I saw that his hands looked like they were hard and had a blue-purple and pale color to them. These are two of the first signs of frostbite. Realizing that, I gave him the free pair of Chicago Bears gloves that were given to me, and the other fans, at the beginning of the game as a courtesy of the Bears staff. 

I wish I could’ve done more, but I was only 17 years-old. Gloves were the best I could do. Ultimately, I realized that I cannot take anything for granted. I am blessed that I was born into a loving family who can afford food, clothes and a home for me. Later that night at dinner, I made sure to thank my dad for the great trip, and everything he’s done for me.