The other day, as I crossed the street on my way back to my office from a meeting, I glanced down the alley and recognized a man pushing an elderly woman in a wheelchair over the bumpy pavement. He is quite recognizable. He frightens people because of how he looks with jail time inscripted tatoos all over his face, hands and arms. He also has an outward gaze that is a combination of vacant and in deep thought about something a little bit crazy.
Buddy and I have known one another for a while now.....his personal story I'm well aware of. He's been to see me in my office a few times, we talk on the phone on occasion and I see him regularly at the market on Saturday mornings where we sometimes chat for a couple of minutes to catch up. He's there begging for money.......or as I have suggested to him....... he's a busker without a musical instrument.
His presence, because of his outward appearance jolts people and often sends them over to the other side of the street. The fear factor swarms him like a shadow. Mental illness, abuse and poverty has plagued him since childhood and has wreaked havoc in the past with the choices he's made, some of which he admits he can't even remember following through on. A few have landed him in the prison system but he now enjoys the longest (years) amount of time on this side of the prison bars. Anyone can see his life scars and their initial assumptions about what he's done and what has happened to him would be correct..........to some extent. Wounds and scars loudly shout out his story.
Buddy tends to keep to himself.... rarely instigating a conversation though he loves to talk and is always polite whenever we do. That's the part most people don't see. He has compassion. On occasion, he has contacted me to tell me how concerned he is about someone he's met on the street or in the rooming houses he has lived in. He looks out for others.
Today as he pushed an old lady in a wheelchair, Buddy looked even a little bit more "out there," because of what he was wearing, and carrying. Shirtless (which revealed even more elaborate tatooing), his jeans were many sizes too big were rolled up to the knees and held up by a piece of rope used as a belt. His shoes were large, laceless and clompy.....their tongues rolled out the front. What tipped the scale was his homemade satchel made of a green garbage bag he had slung over his one shoulder and under his armpit. It was full of something.
The woman in the wheelchair wasn't someone I recognized. She seemed depleted of energy.... under the mid-afternoon sun. Dressed in a tank top and shorts, she had a large shopping bag on her lap. She looked older than her years, often the case when one lives a life of surviving poverty. Like Buddy, she had lost most of her teeth which made her face sunken. She jiggled along as her wheelchair bumped along the uneven pavement. It looked like such an uncomfortable ride, but she almost seemed oblivious to this fact, seemingly lost in a bigger survival than a stroll through the heart of the city.
What a sight! These two looked like the most outrageous ragamuffins I had seen in a long time. My feeling was that few people dared to acknowledge them directly even though they were as difficult to miss as a flashing neon billboard. Invisible? Unmentionable? Dismissable?
Me: Well, aren't you one lucky lady being pushed by this gentleman.
Buddy: (not yet recognizing me......perhaps he was thinking, who is this crazy woman in a dress wearing bright green sunglasses?) Yeah, we're looking for empty bottles. (pointing to his garbage bag satchel while moving closer to me) Oh! It's you dear! I didn't recognize you. This is Betty. She's my landlords wife. This is our second time out, me and her.
Me: Nice to meet you Betty. Isn't it a beautiful day? Look how tanned you are!
Betty: Oh yes....I tan up just like a berry.
Me: It looks like you've found quite a few empties. Have you checked the dumpster back behind the building over there?
Buddy: Yeah, we got most of them back there.
Me: It's too bad they are moving the Redemption Centre out of the city soon. I don't know how you'll be able to return the bottles and get the money when that happens. It's going to be hard for anyone who collects them like you guys.
Buddy: Oh, we're not doing that dear. No. We're gonna keep 'em and take 'em back home. Betty's husband collects empties all summer and then at the end of the summer he takes them all in for money and has a big BarBQ for all his tenants. We're collecting for that, right Betty?
Betty: nods. He's does it every year. It's his tradition.
Me: That's a great idea! That's nice of him..... a lot of work for you guys though?
Buddy: Yeah, I ain't been to a BarBQ in a long time.....it's worth it, and me and Betty can get out and get some exercise. (smiling his toothless smile)
Me: Well, good luck with your collecting. It looks like you've been quite successful today.
Buddy: Thanks dear. Will I see ya at the market on Saturday?
Me: I think so. I'll see you then. Nice meeting you Betty......
Betty: Nice meetin' you.
They rolled on.............across Queen Street and turned right. My last picture of these two scruffy ragamuffins? They were rolling through the middle of the entrance way of the Crowne Plaza down the street, surrounded by tourists getting off a bus........ It made me laugh as I watched the back of Buddy, his garbage bag satchel slung over his back, buldging with empty containers, sludging along pushing Betty to the next known dumpster..........oblivious of how they looked to the rest of the world...........determined to collect enough returnables to turn into an end of summer party. It truly was a lesson in seeing beauty in another light.
Labels: beauty, friends, life
