The Arduous Things Andrew Must Endure…

Two weeks ago, Rebecca had told me she would be on vacation this visit for my injection. She had told me not to fret as the other nurses would take good care of me. I had forgotten and my hopes sunk to the floor when Dee Dee informed me that it would be awhile before a nurse came available. The lobby soon began to fill up making me nervous – all of these coughing, sniffling, sickly people.

“Rebecca won’t let you get your seat warm before she calls you back,” Dee Dee told me with a smile and a chuckle.

I laughed back weakly in agreement.

“Rebecca spoils me rotten,” I told Dee Dee in response.

The nurse practitioner in residence, Leigh Anne, finally stuck her head out the office door and welcomed me back. Leigh Anne is so very sweet and wanted me to be and feel comfortable. She’s only administered my injection one time before.

“I promise I won’t hurt you,” she told me with a warm but worried smile.

You could see the worry furrows in her forehead form. 

“I’m fine,” I promised her. “I’ve been doing this for ten years.”

They always try to use the short needle and are surprised when I insist on the 3 inch needle.

“The short one is for the deltoid muscle,” I told her. “The longest one is for the gluteal muscle.”

“We need to get that medicine deep as we can into my butt muscle,” I then told her in layman terms.

“What took you so long?” my father asked upon my arrival back at the pharmacy. “I was beginning to worry you drove back home and got back in the bed.”

“I had to wait in the lobby for 30 minutes,” I replied to my father. “Rebecca is on vacation.”

“I was about to call down there and see what was happening,” my father said dotingly.

The Hard Sell…

Dad and I both spent $95 dollars on our groceries last night. I spent $10 dollars on chicken salad alone. I also spent $5 more dollars on that decadently delicious Qui French style yogurt. My biggest expense was car care products as I washed my car the other day and I wanted it to look nice. Tire slick, trim finish, etc.

“I can’t say anything to you about it as I am just as bad in what I spent,” my father told me consoling me about the lofty price.

“Damn,” I said as we escaped the jaws of Kroger. “I forgot my journal writing sodas.”

“Here’s $5,” my father told me. “Go through self checkout and buy them really quick.”

We were headed to our cars when a strange, rail thin black fellow with a wandering eye approached us.

“Excuse me sir!” he kept saying as we kept walking. “Excuse me!”

He hit my father up for $20 dollars very aggressively and menacingly getting right in his face.

“I just want a sandwich from the deli and a soda,” he told us.

“First, back away from me. Let me finish loading my groceries into my car and I will go buy you a sandwich and a drink,” my father told him.

Well, he didn’t like that one bit and just walked off without saying one more thing.

The Hard Sell...

About an hour ago, I was putting gas in my car when this rangy and soaking wet black fellow walked up to me and asked if I could get him a hamburger. One of his most notable characteristics was that he had an extremely lazy eye. He was also completely invading my personal boundaries.

"My mother died last week and I am completely homeless," the guy said loudly. "I need your help!"

"Walk inside and I will buy you a couple of hot dogs and a Coke," I replied as I finished pumping fuel into my car.

"Can I have the cash?  Come on man. I am homeless, I need the money," he exclaimed.

He was extremely agitated and pushy with a wild look in his eyes.  He had to be one of the most diligent, desperate, and driven panhandlers I have ever come across.  I was beginning to feel threatened by him.

"I am not giving you any cash," I said growing irritated wondering what his next move was going to be.

A car pulled up to a pump nearby and they were the "homeless" guy's new victims. I guess he wasn't that hungry after all.  He was jonesing for his next fix.

Don't get me wrong.  I have a lot of sympathy and empathy for the homeless and the poor.  It's these kinds of guys that make it hard on the rest of the homeless community. They give the homeless a bad reputation.

image credit:  http://reesenews.org/2011/01/12/panhandler-for-a-day/7982/
image credit:  http://komonews.com/news/local/city-tries-to-curb-aggressive-panhandlers-with-sign-campaign

Fringe Dwellers…

There was a very slight and shifty looking fellow frantically panhandling in the parking lot this morning.  I watched with interest as many customers turned him away.  “There has got to be an easier, softer way to make money,” was what I thought. “Less demeaning”  I was gathering some carts when he stopped to talk to me.

“Are they going to run me off?” he asked, worried, seeing my Wal-Mart smock realizing I was an employee.

“The security guy will eventually,” I replied, warning him.

“Have you got five bucks I could have?” he pleaded. “I am trying to get up the money for a new battery for my car.  I am stuck in the McDonald’s parking lot up the road.”

I pulled out my wallet and gave the man five bucks even though I knew the line about the battery was a farce.  I’ve heard that very same line before.  I wished him the best as he scurried into the store to do what I assume was to buy some beer.  I realize most people who panhandle have addictions, but I felt it wasn’t my decision to decide if this man could have a drink or not. Too many times in my adult life I have been told by my father what I can and can’t do so I had some empathy for the fellow.  I actually wanted him to be able to enjoy a few beers.  I know that will be wildly unpopular, but that’s how I felt at the time this morning.   Better to give him the money than for him to shoplift or steal to get the beer was what I thought. 

I find these kinds of people fascinating.  They are not the safety conscious milquetoast middle America that live boring lives.  I call these people fringe dwellers just like George and the gang were – living on the fringes of society.  That’s why I am so keen to become part of the “social club” that hangs out down at the convenience store drinking wine, smoking, and chatting every night.  These people live colorful and vibrant lives that is also good fodder for the blog as far as tales go.  I like to call it research as far as the journal is concerned.  I want to chronicle these people’s lives in words for prosperity and interest.  My experiences with them will also enrich my life I hope as I explore other lives, race relations, etc.  And maybe I will learn a few lessons about life along the way as well.  Like the adrenaline junkie who jumps out of airplanes to skydive, I find myself wanting to take chances and be aggressive with my life for a change.   Far too long, I’ve sat at home scared of the world outside my front door – scared that my mental illness would flare and I would get in a mess.  Better to flare than miss out on life as I have for years I have learned. 

Friendships Forming…

I find now that I am out of the house and working that I am meeting so many new people.  There are so many social avenues opening up for me which a few weeks ago would make me shy away in social horror.  Our Wal-Mart is a very, very big place full of customers and employees – lots of people talking and interacting.  I had hopes with my ventures in Alcoholics Anonymous that I would have similar experiences, but I did not.  Alcoholics are strange creatures – often loners.  I found that you would have to attend meetings for months to be accepted into the club – as if to prove you are no longer drinking and are safe to befriend.  So many people come and go out of those meeting halls it can be dizzying to form relationships in my experiences with the program.

Derrick and I have become great friends over the past two weeks.  We both share a keen interest in all things electronic.  I look forward to our daily chats about iPhones and LCD televisions to Blu-Ray players.  All things I love and am keenly interested in.

Today, the ever androgynous Derrick asked me if I had seen Toy Story 3.

“I’ve never seen any of those movies,” I replied. “I found it hard to sit through a full length movie for years due to my stir craziness.”

“Oh, you would love them,” he said. “They’re not just for kids.  Let’s rent 1 and 2 this weekend, grab a few beers, and watch them on my big screen television.”

“I would enjoy that,” I replied.

It felt so good to have a friend – to do what “normal” people do.  To get together and watch movies.  To talk of shared interests with a passion.  I think my returning to work has been the best thing to happen to me in years.  Who would have thought I would now have an average normal guy for a friend and a possible girlfriend?  It is so exciting and invigorating! I would have never thought I could be social, but by facing my social anxieties, I am finding it easier every day. 

The Agenda for the Afternoon…

I have decided not to buy that scooter much to my own chagrin.  I just can’t justify spending $750 dollars on a motorized vehicle when I have a perfectly good and even more extremely economical mountain bike to travel to and from work with.  It is about three miles to work and I think I can easily peddle that far if I leave on time every morning.  The catch?  Getting my years unused mountain bike back in service.  It needs new tubes for the tires and I am hoping work will have them.  I bought the bike at Wally World years ago with a savings bond that my then living grandmother gave me.  So getting my bike back in action is part of the agenda for the day.

My benefactor has run out of things for me to do until he rents a power washer for me to wash his vinyl siding.  I think I will hit the neighborhood once again “networking” to try and drum up some more regular customers for my yard care business.  You will find me slowly toodling around the neighborhood this afternoon on my now quiet riding lawn mower.  There were so many houses I tried last week where no one was seemingly at home.  I will try them again today. 

Chill in the Air...

It is cloudy and overcast this morning.  There is a chill in the air.  I even went so far as to turn on the heat inside my home to 78.  I like it warm.  Much of the country has seen chilly weather this spring.  Just this week it snowed in Utah.  There was snow on the blossoms.  We can't even get snow in the dead of winter that is February. 

I've been thinking a lot about Ferret and Big S.  I talked to Rosa again this morning and she told me, "That Ferret is crazy as hell."  I laughed cause he is.  I long to hang out with my friends, but know it is not for the best.  I just can't be around all that drinking and carrying on.  Still, I long to hang out down at the shopping center and to pass the time (so key!).  I've spent far too much time on this computer lately.  I have even thought of taking up panhandling to get up some extra money.  It sucks not having money all the time.  I know no other means. 

"You would make a terrible panhandler," Rosa told me when I mentioned it.

"Why?"

"You're too nice," she said. "You would give the money back."

I broke out in laughter. She is probably right.  I have always had a soft heart and hate to impose. 

"You need to talk to your father and get him to stop that crazy withholding of money from you," Rosa then told me.

Oh no! Not this again, I moaned in my mind. 

Rosa didn't speak of it for long and I refrained from commenting.  I didn't want to get in all that this morning.  Rosa forgets I voluntarily gave up the money this time.  It is my own fault. 

Happy

It is lunchtime Saturday at the shopping center.  The regulars are all abuzz about the grocery store having a new manager.  My old boss, Jay, has gotten a promotion to regional manager.  He always was a great guy who worked his ass off. 

"Here come's the money," Big S tells me with a feverish grin.

"Ah, you think you can start back panhandling," I reply.

"At least for a little while," Big S says.

Ferret soon comes sauntering up with Dexter.  Ferret doesn't have to panhandle.  With no bills, his disability allotment keeps him in drink.  And panhandling is always about addiction and not true need.  Big S panhandles to help pay for his expensive premium cigarette habit. 

"Damn," Ferret tells me. "It was cold as shit this morning."

"Maybe that will sober you up and you will find a home," I reply.

Ferret just laughs back at me nervously. Ferret is not interested in finding a home.  

Dexter looks lost today.  I worry about him hanging around Ferret.  He is so impressionable. 

"Dexter, I see you are wearing your Christmas sweatshirt," I say, trying to make small talk.

Dexter pulls his shirt out to show me and smiles.  Dexter is perpetually broke and always digging through the dumpsters around town.  The rumor is he eats from the dumpster behind the Korean restaurant.

I finally sit back on my bench and light up a cigarette.  I grow so lonesome some days and the company of the gang is a Godsend.  Everything is well in the life of my unorthodox friends and that makes me happy. I look at my watch and the day is still young.  Much can happen while I am gone and walking home.  I finally leave my friends doing what they normally do.  Just another day in J-ville and it feels good. 

Merry Christmas Gang!

I just drove down to the shopping center.  Big S, Dexter, and Ferret were sitting out front much to my relief.  I was worried no one would be around due to the holidays.  The grocery store and adjacent stores were hopping with activity and last minute shopping. 

"Merry Christmas," I said, passing out packs of cigarillos, Reese's peanut butter cups, and Coca-colas.

"I thought you would never think of me," Big S said with a hearty grin.

"It is going to be a crack head Christmas!" Ferret quipped as he laughed crazily, opening up his peanut butter cups. 

I laughed along and wished I could do more for my unorthodox friends this Christmas.  I could have cooked a big meal at my home, but I am barely surviving the festivities myself.  These souls have nowhere else to go.

"Crack head Christmas?" I asked, intrigued.

"My landlord's wife is cooking Christmas dinner and I have been invited," Ferret replied.  "That's if they can lay off the crack for long enough."

I began to appreciate my mostly calm family, and to be glad I wasn't faced with the dysfunction of Ferret's Christmas as a tenant.

The day before Christmas is traditionally one of the biggest panhandling days of the year.  Everyone is in the Christmas spirit and loose with their spare change.  Alas, the management of the stores down at the shopping center has really clamped down on this activity.  Big S was lamenting the fact that he could be rolling in money by day's end.

"It ain't hurtin' no one," Big S told me, talking about it.

"The say it hurts business," was my reply.

"They just want all the money," Big S said, looking perturbed.  

I smiled warmly and left it at that.  I wished everyone a Merry Christmas and then headed home feeling shaky.  I still feel weak from that terrible anxiety attack last night.  I almost felt as if I had run a marathon the day before. I think I did make Christmas a little brighter for my friends though.  There is no worse feeling than being out of smokes for a smoker on a holiday.  Merry Christmas, indeed!

A Posse of Panhandlers

It's a Thursday morning down at the shopping center. Big S is sitting by the Piggly Wiggly exit drinking a soda. Dexter is nervously fidgeting as he stands up against a wall. Clara is busily panhandling down near the dollar store. I awoke early for my morning walk and the end of my journey brings me by here.

"How's it hangin'?" Big S asks me as I sit down next to him for a break.

"Oh, about two feet," I replied, making a penis joke. Big S burst out laughing. Our discussion then migrated to George and what he has been doing these days. I have fallen out of favor with George.

"He's hangin' out with this scruffy lookin' fella named Dontelle," Big S told me.

"George can find the most interesting people," I reply. "They gravitate to him."

"He and Dontelle be playin' poker over at Pookie's house every night this week," Big S informed me.

"Pookie hasn't stolen George's wallet lately, has she?" I asked as I chuckled.

Big S got the biggest grin on his face as he said no, but that it was bound to happen again soon.

"I don't see why he wants to date a crackhead," Big S said.

"She must be one helluva good screw."

"She's too fat to fuck," Big S said snidely.

I thought of the old saying of the pot calling the kettle black as Big S is almost 300 pounds. Actually, when I think of it, Pookie and Big S would make a good couple. They both sit around and wait on their victims to come to them. I've been thinking of calling Pookie the "Black Widow."

"Clara taking your panhandling business?" I then asked Big S changing the subject.

"Nah, I ain't been panhandlin' lately," he replied. "They keep threatening to call the police on me."

"Who?"

"The manager of the Pig," Big S replied. "Said I am aggravating customers."

I laughed heartily. There is nothing more aggravating than when you have an arm full of groceries and one of these characters accosts you for spare change. Big S saying this made me turn my attention down to Clara as I watched her ask an older woman for a few dollars for "gas money." "Her car was out of gas over by the car wash," she said. It is the oldest line in the book. A few weeks ago, a little Mexican fellow was carrying around an old and rusty alternator that was supposedly from his car trying to get up funds to "go home." Can you say mucho cervezas? These folks will say anything for a few bucks and a forty ounce of beer.

My favorite panhandler down at the shopping center was HIV/AIDS Guy. He eventually disappeared -- I believe he is in jail for drug charges. He would tell his unsuspecting victims that he was dying of AIDS and needed money for his medications to prolong his life. He always had one of those hospital ID bands around his wrist that he would show you during his spiel. He used to rake in the money until they chased him off. He definitely was the most creative panhandler I have ever encountered. I used to tell him I was psychotic crazy and he would leave me alone. He would watch me with shifty eyes as I walked up. George used to get the biggest laugh out of that.

Gotta Do What You Gotta Do

Most of the morning was spent down at the shopping center. Lazy. Yawning. Smoking. Watching people come to and fro. I noticed Clara busily panhandling. People would escape the grocery store only to get caught in her web. I never could panhandle. My social anxieties would prevent me. It was too much like being a door to door salesperson except your customers come to you.

"Doesn't that embarrass you?" I asked her during a lull.

"I gotta do what I gotta do to eat," she said.

You gotta do what you gotta do to drink, I thought flippantly. I would watch her garner about five dollars and go in and buy a bottle of Boone's Farm wine. The cheap stuff. $2 dollars a bottle.

Clara finally tired of panhandling when she had generated enough money. She came and sat beside me -- her wine hidden in a brown paper bag within her backpack as she would take drinks.

"Is that chick that is always with you your wife?" she asked.

"We look like we are married, don't we?" I said with a laugh. Flattered that someone would think such a thing.

"She's protective of you."

"Where not married," I replied. "But it feels like it some days."

"George says she was once homeless in Atlanta."

"Yep," I replied. "I would rather you talk to her about it though. She can tell you some interesting stories."

A quiet moment overcame us as Clara sat drinking that swill. She looked deep in thought. Her hair amiss like some wild child. I could see a thousand tales in her weathered face. I wondered what had happened in life to bring her to live like this.

"You're creepy like some child molester," Clara finally said brusquely as she got up to take another bench up by the grocery store. "You're too friendly." It caught me by surprise the way she turned on me. I realize that such a thing is normal for dealing with a homeless lady who spends her days panhandling and drunk. I wanted to tell her that she wasn't exactly out of the pages of Good Housekeeping either. Some friendships are just never meant to be. I left the shopping center with lunch and Clara on my mind as I walked to Rosa's house to get my car. Gotta do what you gotta do to survive, I thought of living on the streets. It would take more than casual conversation and the occasional breakfast to win over my new homeless friend.