the pelican

once more with feeling

out for lunch

today at work i ran out to get something to eat and a bottle of some expensive special tea with a live culture in it. i don’t really know if it does anything good for me or not, but the label says it does and i want to believe it so i buy it and plan to walk down the path by the river to sit and have my lunch and drink my special miracle cure raw living tea.

standing outside the store, i see a guy using the pay phone. he looks at me as soon as i arrive and smiles at me as though he knows me. like he’s been waiting for me. i smile back and i smile at his dog. i love german shepherds. so smart so quick so bright so much light in their eyes. i like him. i like his dog.

when i leave the store, he is walking in the same direction as i am. he turns. i go forward. he comes back around the other side of the block. i walk across to the park and start down the path by the river and quickly find a place to sit. i have my tunafish sandwich and my tea and my wallet on the bench beside me. i look at the river and try to sort out the stress of the day and calm down from my walk and do a little breathing exercise before i start into my sandwich.

about three bites in, i am startled by the guy and his dog approaching from behind me. he says “hi” really loudly to me as though he knows me well and chucks his stuff down next to me.

the first thing he says to me is this is really weird but i’ve never been homeless  before. oh dear i said. i look up at him and put my sandwich down. i’ve eaten about a quarter of it, maybe. i wonder if i should offer him some sandwich but he starts talking to me and telling me how he’s out here from california and was camping and he asked some kids nearby to not make so much noise and they got upset and threw a bunch of rocks at him and hurt him. he says he went to the police to explain all this and somehow his trailer and all his stuff was towed away and he was put in jail. i’m not quite sure what for -- that part was a bit sketchy and lacking some details.

his dog, a beautiful older german shepherd with mild hip dysplasia, starts to whine at him and he lets him loose from his leash and throws a stick into the river for the dog to chase. i think the river is moving a bit too fast for him and i tell him so. the dog struggles in the rapids a bit but makes it back to the shore and barks at him to throw the stick some more. he does. this worries me, and his story continues.

he says he just got out of jail and while in jail his dog had to go to the pound. oh dear i say. oh dear. i bet he was very upset. and he says oh you have no idea! the guy actually looks relatively ok. he has a watch. a decent watch. his bags are scuffy. he has on a clean t-shirt. he doesn’t exactly look like the basic homeless sort. that is, not the boulder sort. the sort i am used to. he’s not a hippie, not a scraggly old dirty guy, not a kid with multiple piercings and heavy black eyeliner, no cardboard sign. 

he has nice sparkly blue eyes and a pleasant smile. he’s tan. he looks quite fit. he looks like he might work outside. construction or something like that. his hair is clean and he’s recently shaved. the dog barks at him and he climbs down the embankment to bring him back up. the dog wants to continue to play fetch.

while he’s down by the river, i resume eating my sandwich. couldn’t eat it in front of him, while he was talking to me, but still i didn’t offer him any. don’t know why. i wonder about that.

so while he is down by the riverbank i eat on my sandwich a bit. and i move my wallet over closer to my lap instead of flopped off to the side.

eventually he throws the stick for the dog into a rather deep area and i fear for an undertow kind of situation, and the dog is struggling in the water and so again i tell him so. he calls the dog towards him and we sort of coach him in to the side by some rocks. he pulls the dog out by his harness kind of roughly and dumps him on top of the rocks where the dog is unable to balance. he scrambles around with the dog and the harness gets all wonky, dog yelps and then they both sort of stagger back up the hill towards me. the dog is not amused and proceeds to shake the water out of his fur. he is very apologetic. i laugh. it’s ok i say. it’s only water.

meanwhile again i have put the sandwich back down. i can’t eat it. he continues his story. he says he has nowhere to stay. he says he is going to sue the guys who did this to him, and that the police have told him they found one of them and he’s going to have to tell him who the others are. and he has to stick around for his court trial. not sure if he means his, or the other guys.

i do not mention that i am a paralegal and work in a law firm. for a moment i consider it but i decide not to tell him. i do not question the logic or the holes of the story. i listen and offer sympathy. i could have given him the number for boulder county legal services or legal aid but i don’t.

it’s an interesting exchange because it’s not the usual sort of panhandling situation and i kind of want to believe him, but i feel cautious. he seems unreal. he followed me there. there are many loops and twists and missing bits to his story. he feels almost like he’s slightly scripted, but not in the polished way. in some other way. i can’t quite explain that. he feels strange to me. but i don’t care. there is something interesting about watching to him spin his yarn. he’s not drunk or apparently drugged. not desperate. he’s begging yet not begging.  in fact, he never actually directly asks for money.

and, it’s true, i suppose i am somewhat of a soft touch and do give out money periodically when asked and even if i don’t i try to at least make eye contact and acknowledge that they are not invisible. smile. like to tip street musicians and even have a couple regular guys who are actually brothers who set up in a median near the highway who i give money to occasionally even though i am most likely in some way contributing to their habits. like to think that it’s up to them what they do with whatever money comes their way and if asked i will give if i can and not judge. or something like that. friends and other people lecture me all the time that i’m making their problems worse by giving but i do it anyway. but the boulder mall and surrounding area and the park are known for lots of homeless people and hippies and crazies and bums and all sorts. its part of boulder. i buy the homeless newspaper. i give away my lunch leftover take away boxes as i leave a restaurant whenever asked. i know their life must be hard and dangerous. yet there is some part of me that almost romanticizes some of them in their freedom from the unreal world. their daily survival. their reality show. sometimes they seem like great sages and wise men. gods in disguise. i just don’t know. i don’t know. i mean i don’t think this makes me a wonderful person or anything like that. and besides maybe i’m doing the wrong thing. but for the most part i like them. respect them. a few of the crazier or smellier or scarier looking ones i suppose i fear a bit. not keen on the aggressive ones. i don’t know i don’t know. for instance, the other day on my walk i ran into a guy in underpants under the bridge at the river who told me at the top of his voice that it was dick cheney who shot john lennon. is that so? and he said oh yeah oh yeah! and he smiled and waved so i smiled and that’s that. i don’t know what i’m trying to say.

but this guy was a bit different. he has a lot of story to tell. i empathize and listen. and wait for him to ask for money. and he doesn't.
 
he says he stayed at a friend’s house and i say oh that’s good so you know some people around here and he said yeah well i met this guy in jail. he was in for a DUI, but a very nice guy ultimately, a very nice guy.

he says he has to stay around to get his trailer and all his stuff and asks me if i know of a good pawn shop. i don’t. he says the kids that threw the rocks at him also messed up his elbow and he needs to get to a hospital in denver. he elbow does look a bit banged up from old and potentially more recent scars. the local hospital is only a few blocks away and i start to offer this information but he goes on about some other details. i ask him if he spoke with victim’s assistance at the DA’s office as they will have some resources for him. he says yeah he’ll look into that. yeah he’s got a name on a piece of paper in his pocket. he says he needs a place to stay where he can have his dog with him. i say i understand.

his dog whines and barks at him. his dog looks thin. i want to give the dog the rest of my sandwich but i don’t.

eventually his dog starts barking at him almost incessantly. and he says ok ok no talking no talking and then he picks up his stuff, hooks the leash on his dog, says ok well goodbye and heads off just like that. and i said take care i wish you well and we smile at each other and he’s gone. poof. wasps immediately come and start going for my sandwich and then for me and so i dodge the wasps enough to toss it in the bear proof latched garbage tanks and i leave shortly thereafter and i look around but there is no sign of him. he has vanished.

he never asked for money and yet i feel perhaps i should have offered it. even though i did this strange protective moving of the wallet maneuver. i wonder what he will do. where he will sleep. what will happen to his dog.

i walk back to the office with my expensive miracle tea and the chaos of exhibits and emergencies waiting for me in my office and all i’ve to get done in order to take a brief week vacation road trip next week and how i didn’t really have time to even take a break today.

and i drink my miracle tea and i wonder about everything. i wonder about his story. he had a good yarn. he had all the sympathetic elements, the fuzzy details, the needs for travel, pawn shop, doctor, the dog. but he didn’t just come out and ask. ever.

i guess that was up to me to offer.

but i didn’t.

and i wonder about that too.

posted by: limine at 21:47 | link | comments (11) |

Comments:

#1  06 September 2006 - 22:50

 

nice story.

BanzaiDescent

#2  07 September 2006 - 04:53

 

Protecting your wallet wasnt so strange, i've done the same thing although it may induce a little guilt to think someone could be a thief, especially just because they're homeless, who knows? I also keep it with me at w$@k.

rustymadgal

#3  07 September 2006 - 07:04

 

I would have been in a quandary too. I want to help, but don't want to be taken advantage of and don't want to put myself at risk. In Miami there are often people in intersections collecting for the Homeless Voice - a newspaper that supposedly helps homeless people. I usually give them a dollar or 2. On another note, my younger daughter spent last night in, I believe, Granby, took the train there from Salt Lake City and is going to rent a car and drive up into the Rocky Mountain National Park and camp for a couple of days. The train ride was lovely and I wish I could be with her. What I've seen of Colorado is sooo beautiful. Take care.

mafidl

#4  07 September 2006 - 15:01

 

As I read your post, I started to fear for you, perhaps because you did not fear for yourself. And I could not explain my fear of this man you've described...it's instinctive. And there are tons of homeless or mentally ill people who do not scare me. Please be careful!

InMyLife

#5  08 September 2006 - 04:21

 

It was the dog, the dog told him you were a pure heart, and to move on to the next mark.

Leigh

#6  08 September 2006 - 10:34

 

What's a body to do? Be human and risk bodily harm. Be too careful and lose your humanity.

behindtheblink

#7  11 September 2006 - 19:28

 

Maybe he just wanted to talk for a minute. I doubt it, but your story makes me doubt my doubt. That's something.

Yoshick

#8  12 September 2006 - 10:02

 

I always want to comment, but mostly just to acknowledge what a great storyteller you are.

Thanks for the words.
'mouse

Anonymous

#9  13 September 2006 - 19:39

 

Sometime people are meant as a pourpose for us to evaluate ourselves once again...sign posts on the way...perhaps this man was a door to self introspection...

thebigbaton

#10  14 September 2006 - 01:08

 

I like leigh's theory.

~milktea

Anonymous

#11  14 September 2006 - 07:01

 

perhaps, the moral of the story might be, that as down as he was- he has still kept his dignity. and as well meaning as you were, had you offered the sandwich, you just might have injured it.

goliard

Anonymous

Comments: