Today while eating some pizza and having a beer on the patio of my favorite restaurant, an older guy pulled up beside me on his bike. He hopped off the seat and braced himself against the stone pillar that capped the end of the knee-high brick barrier that separated the porch area from the sidewalk.
“I just biked here from Opelika, man, I’m hurting.”
“Oh shit, your legs must be killing you. What is that, like 10 miles?”
“It’s not my legs, it’s my ass. That damn seat is so uncomfortable.”
That’s a general sense of how the introduction began. Enter Henry, a 61 year old homeless Black man. He was at the restaurant to meet a friend, he took a quick peek inside, turned around quickly, and asked me for the time. Apparently, the person he was supposed to meet was like 10 minutes late. Well, we got to chatting, me sitting there alone at the table with my two slices and my can of some pale ale, him pacing around rubbing his legs and butt. Henry has lived in this city since he was born, went to high school with the mayor, knows everybody, etc. He told me stories about getting knocked out downtown by a drunk white college student and about other homeless people at the camp slashing the tires on his bike. We talked a lot about relationships- Henry was married for 18 years and has two daughters. Two years ago, his wife left him because of his drug habit (cocaine). We talked about that for a bit, he’s been clean 19 months, only drinks dark liquor now, tries to work out when he can. Henry showed me the current ailment he has, which is a nasty case of poison ivy on his hands and forearms. I wish I had some lotion to give him, but that’s just one of those things I seem to never have on me.
Long story short, Henry and I took a trip to the gas station to get him a pack of smokes and some cash. We had a fun little time splashing around in this puddle outside the Circle K. I dropped him back off at the restaurant where he left his bike, we shook hands, traded names again, and off he went. He asked me how often I go there, hopefully because he wants to chat again, but maybe because he knows I’ll buy him cigarettes and a beer. I’ve often been accused of being easily manipulatable or overly meek or pliable or whatever, but in my mind, that’s not the case. So what if someone is taking advantage of me, that’s not really my concern in situations like this. If the way you act is always influenced by assuming other people’s motives, you’ll never do anything worth doing. Not that I want to jerk myself off for being charitable, I don’t, I just really hope everyone else is the same way if they can afford to be. I hope I see Henry again, he was a really nice dude.
jeez, louise 