These days my mind is pretty busy.
There's a film in post production, one in development, there's a documentary in sort of production, and another in my head, along with a script or two and a couple of stories. There's the usual bills and house stuff along with our theatrical release of jumping off bridges (which is coming right along as you can see
here). And, on top of that, there's the fact that my daughter is really truly leaving for college and there is much to do on that end, including cleaning the house in prep for a little going away bash, in addition, I'm processing a 'breakup' from that boy I was seeing for about 3 years. Don't get me wrong, there is much good going on in my life right now. It's not all craziness and transitions, but there are many details to track and things to be accountable for and it leaves me just wishing I knew someone who could make me one of those amazing Italian Stallion Martinis I learned to love in Seattle (just a hint of hazelnut liquor, not sweet, dry, but damn fine.)
Well, I don't have access to Italian Stallion Martinis now, so what to do in a time of such transition?
Three things:
Run
Walk the dogs
Hang out with the homeless on Wednesdays.
Yesterday, after a busy morning, I headed to the homeless center my mind full of lists, details and things to do and my arms full of three bags of Annalise's cast off clothing (already picked over by
Kat and Tracy). As soon as I walked in, Homer, who can speak perfect TexMex/Spanish and English and who is our default stand in translator (and though he swears he does not have the patience to teach anyone Spanish can sit with a terrified Spanish speaker as we talk through options and soon they'll be smiling and relaxing and saying "hey man" just like Homer does cause Homer's just that damn sweet), anyway, Homer announces, really loudly, "you're late!".
It was nice to be missed. Really nice.
There were big smiles all around and lots of "Hi Stacy"s.
Now, that sounds like no big deal, but I love that shit. I absolutely love it and I love the hell out of my friends there.
I met a new guy today, "J", 55, skin and bones and sweet with lots of stories to tell. (I'd actually seen him on my run the night before, he was up on the bridge, with bags and backpack and he looked so thin that I resolved to go back and try to find him after the run, but by then it was late and getting dark and I just didn't do it.) Right after we met, "J" started digging around in his overstuffed wallet and soon enough presented me with a Jamba Juice gift card. He really wanted me to take it. He was very proud of it and for good reason, it had a sweet little flowery design on it and as he said, there was still money on it. (When people ask, I tell them that these little gift cards can be a pretty good choice if you want to give something to the homeless, sure it might be given to someone else, but it's still a nice thing to do.) I told him I couldn't accept it and made him take it back with a promise to try a strawberry-blueberry smoothie for me. After that, we were fast friends and I learned his story, or a good part of it.
"J" was sitting across from "DC" who likes to listen in on conversations. I asked J. how he became homeless and he just shrugged. "DC" piped up, "why do you have to call it 'homeless', can't we think of something nicer, like, 'not in a house'. To that, "S", a 50ish woman, a regular, who talks straight as an arrow, said, "well if you don't have a home, you're home LESS, don't try to pretty it up.' Good point, I thought, but "J" added to it, " you can be anywhere in the world and you still gotta have your heart in the right place, so maybe it don't matter where your home is or what your home is or if you have one or not."
Maybe it doesn't. I don't know. I still want them all to have one.
About that time, the phone rang and I was told there was a surprise caller on the line for me.
Sure enough it was my old pal,
Cowboy (mid page), who I met about a year ago, and who called to tell me he was getting married! He wants me to come to the wedding and take pictures, which of course I will do. He's known his fiance 7 months, and said he just knew when he met her that she was "the one". (I guess being in your late 60's helps, with this, goodness knows, I'm not the only person to take years to study on "the one" question, too, heck Cowboy might be in his 70's.) Anyway, he wanted me there because he said I was the first person he met in Austin and he'd never forget me. The day Cowboy came in the center, was the only day I've ever been able to patch enough resources together to get someone homed in a single day. It happened for Cowboy. In just one afternoon, he went from being a transient who just arrived in town to having his own apartment, all thanks to ElderCare folks who went out of their way to help him. Guess he just has the luck of the cowboys, because Cowboy always said the only thing he wanted in life was a good woman, so I'm sure he's happy now.
"A" came in, not looking so good. It wasn't 2 weeks ago that he was doing really well. He had moved into an RV through the House the Homeless program, but now, today, he was dirty, sad and had a nasty spider bite on his hand. He needed a bandaid and I gave him one, along with a stack of alcohol towelettes. Dang it. Maybe he'll be happier camping in the woods than he was in the RV. We aren't all meant for houses or for RVs. Still...I hate it when that happens. We commiserated over how now he wouldn't be able to have me over for dinner.
Next, I saw someone else I hadn't seen in ages. "T" is a big man. He's probably 6 feet tall, weighs I don't know much, just a lot, and African American. More important, he's just as sweet as he can be. "T" has had my back more than once when someone lost their temper in the center and I had to step in between them (I know I shouldn't do that, but I do, I'm probably not scared enough sometimes.) "T" just has to stand up and everyone in the room notices. He asked me to get the checkers which is what we do, we play checkers and he usually forces me to win. He seriously sets his checkers up so I have to jump him, though I try hard not to. (Is it any wonder why I love this guy?) So we talk about his diabetes and his bad foot and his friend who helps him manage money and how funny it is that we only have one checker set and no checker board and we have to make do with a piece of plastic that has squares on it? But, hey, it's checkers, you can pretty much play checkers anywhere.
As I sit, "W" comes up and using mostly hand gestures motions me to the door to show me the bike he just bought, a beautiful white racing bike. "W" used to say nothing to me, he didn't speak a word to me, he has trouble with words. Now, he talks to me because I've learned to wait and let him get to the right words. We looked at the bike, then I went back to finish beating "T" at checkers. By this time, I had all kings and he only had two kings and despite his efforts, I won the race around the board, and he was forced to jump my guys until he ended up the winner. A first.
At that point, Mary breezed in and handed me a postcard. It was addressed to "Stacy, Lionel and Everyone" and was from "D" who moved to Seattle at the beginning of the summer. He was just telling us all that he's doing well and got their safely.
As we started final clean up and goodbyes, "J" came up and gave me a big, warm hug, so did "T". I asked "W". if he and "J" were friends and they both said, yes, but they go their separate ways, too. Then "W" took a long couple of moments and said "we're all friends" and pointing to each of us, "you're my friend and he's my friend and he's my friend, we're friends, all of us."
And, we are.
So, back to the beginning. It seems like Wed. morning I was worried about a lot of stupid things and by mid afternoon, I couldn't remember what I'd been worried about.
Run.
Walk dogs.
Hang with the homeless.
That's the ticket.
Labels: dogs, homeless, life, running
