The
theme song from Sylvester Stallone's original "Rocky"
movie blares from a Radio Shack speaker attached to the hood of
a rickety white van that David Timothy calls his "SoupMobile."
The
music alerts hundreds of homeless men, women and children in Dallas
that it's time to eat, and in a more subtle way, tells them that
they, like boxer Rocky Balboa, can overcome challenges.
"Rocky
started with nothing and he rose to the top as world champion,"
Timothy said as the homeless emerged from their cardboard-box
homes under Interstate 45. "And these people here don't have
much. I just wanted to give them a little hope that they can rise
to the top."
On
Thanksgiving Day, as he does every weekday, the 56-year-old Timothy
will feed Dallas' homeless. Along with hot soup and a healthy
portion of hope, he'll serve up something special on the holiday:
turkey sandwiches bought in memory of his wife, Peggy, who died
a month ago after a long battle with multiple sclerosis.
"She
was always a cheerleader for the SoupMobile," said Timothy,
whose red "S" on his shirt gives his nickname as "SoupMan."
"While she could not support us physically, she definitely
supported us verbally. She had a real heart for helping people
and I feel she is with me every time I turn the key to start the
SoupMobile."
To
the hungry and homeless, Timothy's more like Superman than Soupman.
"He
does things for us that other people would not do, like bring
us food, clothes, water, juice, cakes, dog food, blankets,"
said Dorothy Thompson, 36, known to those under the bridge as
"Lil' D."
Timothy,
a Detroit native who spent more than 30 years in the insurance
business, moved to Dallas three years ago to seek treatment for
his wife.
He
said he had contemplated opening a soup kitchen for a long time,
partly because he knew what it was like to grow up poor and hungry,
even though he's never been homeless.
But
when he realized nobody in Dallas wanted a soup kitchen in their
back yard, Timothy and a friend came up with the idea of a mobile
ministry, he said. In summer 2003, he bought his SoupMobile _
a 1985 van with 265,000 miles on it _ and started "taking
the food to the homeless."
"Jesus
said, 'Feed my sheep,'" said Timothy, a nondenominational
Christian. "That's definitely our calling. We don't think
when he said it, he meant just food. We think he meant spiritually
too."
SoupMan
makes no religious demands on the homeless and forces no one to
listen to a sermon, but he's quick to offer a prayer for anyone
who asks.
"He
don't have to come out here, but he come out here because he got
God in him," said Milton Ivy, 49, who said he spent six years
in the U.S. Army and has been homeless since his release from
prison in July. "He's a good spiritual man."
Timothy
provides more than 3,000 meals a month with the help of volunteers,
donations from a few restaurants and grocery stores, and a willingness
to work 60 to 70 hours a week.
Timothy
financially supports himself with home-based insurance work at
night and on weekends. Two or three nights a week he joins volunteers
in manning a concession stand at Dallas Mavericks games to raise
funds for the ministry.
Along
with his work with the SoupMobile, Timothy serves as treasurer
of the Feed My Sheep Coalition, a group of churches and ministries
that aim to supply more than a meal and a blanket to street people.
Pastor
Janet Cobb, the coalition's executive director, said Timothy not
only feeds the hungry, but also finds toys for homeless children
on their birthdays. For most of them, it's the only gift they
receive.
"If
you don't know where you're going to sleep that night or eat that
night, a birthday present is the last thing you expect,"
Cobb said.
SoupMan
greets each person with a smile and a "Buenos tardes, amigo!"
or a "How you doing, man?" as he serves his customers.
When
he spots a friend named "Elvis" in the serving line,
he cranks up "Hound Dog" on the van's loud speaker.
Seconds later, he hugs a disheveled-looking woman whose face has
swelled after an emergency tooth extraction.
"We
want them to feel like somebody does care about them," Timothy
said, "because most people that see them, if they're wandering
the city, just totally ignore them. ... Once you get to know them,
you find out they're regular human beings."
The
only day Timothy has missed feeding the homeless was when his
wife's heart finally gave out _ as she slept in the early hours
of Oct. 25, her 48th birthday. He laid Peggy to rest in a small
private ceremony in Sunnyvale and went back to delivering meals
the day after she died.
"It
kind of helped me keep my sanity," Timothy said of the SoupMobile.
"I was able to keep really, really busy, which turned out
to be a good thing."
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