Oct. 27, 2014—Last week while using public transportation in Nashville, I found myself chatting with a couple of homeless men at a bus stop. One man, called "Chief" by his buddies, had short greasy hair and dirty white sneakers. "Look at these," he said, pointing to the shoes. "Look at how disgusting I am." His voice dropped to a cracked whisper and his brown eyes looked into mine. "Today I’m drinking my last beer." He peeled back the brown paper from a glass bottle. "You don’t believe me, I know you don’t. But this is my last beer."