12/24/2025
This.
‘‘Tis The Season ❤️
"Thirty-seven coats hung on the fence outside my shop last winter.
People thought I'd lost my mind. I run Sal's Alterations on Hammond Street. Hemming pants, fixing zippers, that's my life. Been doing it 43 years, I'm 69 now, still threading needles my daughter says I should retire from.
But I kept seeing the same homeless man walking past. Wearing a T-shirt in December. Arms covered in goosebumps. One morning it was 22 degrees.
I had a rack of unclaimed items in the back. Coats people dropped off for repairs and never picked up. After six months, they're legally mine. Most I donate eventually.
That morning, I grabbed a heavy wool coat, ran outside, caught up to the man. "Sir, excuse me."
He turned around, defensive. "I didn't do nothing."
"I know. But you need this." I held out the coat. "Customer never picked it up. It's just taking up space."
He stared at it. At me. Then took it, put it on. Fit perfect.
"God bless you," he said, and kept walking.
Next day, I hung five more coats on my fence. Different sizes. With a sign: "Free. Take if you need. No questions."
By evening, all five were gone.
I kept doing it. Every week, more unclaimed coats on the fence. Jackets. Sweaters. Anything warm.
Then people started dropping off their own coats. "For the fence," they'd say. Clean coats, good condition, just sitting in closets.
The fence became known. "Sal's Fence." Homeless folks checked it regularly. So did struggling families, people who couldn't afford winter clothes.
One woman brought her two kids, let them pick coats. Saw me watching through the window, gave me a small wave. Mouthed "thank you."
My daughter said, "Dad, you're not making money off this."
"Don't need to make money off everything."
Last March, the man in the wool coat came back. Looked different. Cleaner. Healthier.
"I got into a shelter," he said. "Then a program. Got a job starting next week. Night security." He held out the coat. "Someone else needs this now."
He hung it back on the fence himself.
That coat's been taken and returned four times now. Different people, same need.
Winter's coming again. I've already got twenty coats ready.
Because sometimes the best business isn't the money you make. It's the warmth you share."
Let this story reach more hearts....
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By Mary Nelson