There is one event that haunts me every week. This happened in January of 2015. Paul, who was an acquaintance of mine, was literally crying and begging me, on his knees, to open the shelter door in Quasqueton. The weather was the start of a true Noreaster coming off the ocean. The snow had just started. When I asked the staff to let Paul in, I was told I would have to leave if I opened the door. When I turned toward the door, Paul was gone. I never saw him again.