By Mallory Sherwood, Managing Editor

Face the Facts

For the third time, I signed his little black book – well technically, it was a yellow index card this time; but nonetheless, I knew he would slide it into his notebook when I finished writing my cell phone number.

It didn’t seem to matter that I had already written my number twice, but since he was persistent, I agreed to do it again – but begrudgingly. I know I wasn’t the only one to receive the honor; Tyrone had made a path around Highland Church of Christ’s college Bible class Sunday. I was only the middle of the pack.

I had seen him on campus often this semester and I knew he didn’t attend ACU.

Most people would recognize Tyrone by the little black book he carries that overflows with names and numbers of anyone he passes.

I was immediately wary of his book. Why would he want names and numbers of anyone on campus? Why does he appear on campus every day? Am I the only one who found this strange?

Strange as it may be, I realized Sunday that he isn’t collecting names because he’s some kind of stalker who will call people at all hours of the day. He might call some of the numbers, but he does it because he knows the people at ACU care.

Tyrone is 19 years old and mentally handicapped, although not severely. He often wears a referee-type shirt, or anything with ACU written on it, and a whistle around his neck that he likes to swing around.

Tyrone has a goofy and infectious smile with his tongue sticking out, and he’ll befriend anyone who will make eye contact with him.

Despite his often charming and friendly nature, Tyrone is alone. Abandoned by his mother when he turned 18, Tyrone has no one to turn to and nowhere to go.

I don’t know what he does every day, but I do know he finds comfort on our campus, in the generous students who share their love and anything they have.

He knows the CityLink busing system well enough to get to and from wherever it is he stays, and he often finds rides, food and shelter from students, faculty and staff.

My eyes were opened Sunday when I saw that what I mistook for creepiness was instead a subtle cry for help.

I just hope that maybe next time, I can learn to see past my own prejudices and fears and give a helping hand. Maybe next time Tyrone will find my name and call.