10.16.2007

Dirty toes found in clean socks

Some time ago right here on this site a friend of mine spoke of an experience he had with a bum. Said bum showed that although the downtrodden of the world may be lacking in the material possessions department, they more than make up for it with their candor and wit.

This got me thinking about life, bums, and my experiences with the two. I too have had my run-ins with those-who-lack-an-abode and for the most part these encounters have been positive. Be it the legless dread-locked hobo that smiled at my two little kids outside the ballpark to all those bums who aided my friends and I in our quest for booze back in high-school. Transients in general have been good to me.

So as I reminisced it hit me that these men of the earth have taught me a great deal. Well not a great deal but when you reek like high hell your expectations for them ought to be low.

The derelict performing on an upturned pickle-bucket outside the Majestic theater years ago came to mind. He showed me that red wine greatly impairs my sense of rhythm but to hold fast that entertainment is made up of more than just skill. You can't put a price on showmanship but he'd gladly take the handful of coins rotting at the bottom of your purse.

Another such gentleman whose ancestors resided on the continent of Africa demonstrated to me the old adage that one should not judge a book by its cover. This wise soul was assisting a group of high school boys in the procurement of spirits in exchange for a ride, which is another lesson in and of itself about a free market economy. As we rode through the dingy streets of Pontiac he told us all about his intense love for Joe Cocker. Image my surprise in knowing that a middle-aged black man found immense joy in the music of an elder statesman of British rock. It was as if I was seeing for the very first time.

The gutter-pups I have come across through my time on earth have shown me that life is about much more than a place to live. Life is about people and how you treat them. I say go find yourself a bum, give them a pat on the shoulder, a dollar, and thank them for being around.

1 comment:

w.j. DeBalt said...

I once gave a bum a cheap pint of run on New Years Eve. I thought I had done my good dead for the day... only to watch with my own two eyes that very same bum get hauled off by the police the next morning not 30 feet from where I had given him the New Years gift of liquid truth. What are the chances of that?? I often wonder what happened in those 12-14 hours, in that 30 feet that gets a brother arrested?

Naturally, I felt bad. But I would do it again... I bet it was a hell of a 12-14 hours...