I spotted someone today that I haven’t seen in about fifteen years. Over those years certain things would remind me of the past and make me wonder whatever happened to him. Not because we were super close friends but simply out of curisosity because he, I and two other guys spent a lot of time together. Jeff played guitar for us.
He lived on Vodka and coke (not Coca~Cola). I never saw the guy eat except for an occasional bag of popcorn. I remember stopping at a taco joint at 2:00 AM after a job a few times but even then I think he just asked if he could have one of our tortillas. He lived in a cluttered garage apartment behind his Grandparent’s house, drove an old beat-up El Camino and was reliable enough of a customer that the liquor store he favored let him take bottles on credit.
Today, fifteen years later, I saw him sitting out in the sun on a bucket or an egg crate at a major intersection holding up one of those handwritten signs, muttering to himself and waving weakly to no one in particular. I do not like saying this but seeing him as an intersection panhandler and street person does not shock me as much as the fact that he is still alive.