He drank -- a lot.
He drank a lot -- to forget
but every time he closed his eyes,
he could still see the ugly faces
of the demons from his past.
I met him on one of those FREE campgrounds in Northern
California. He was living in a tent. On the picnic table
were his meager possessions; a camp stove, a lantern,
some pots and pans, utensils and an ice chest.
The ice chest (no ice) was not so much to keep things cold
as it was to prevent the ants from getting into his food.
Beer he kept cold in the creek, the cans in a burlap sack
weighted down with a rock. The creek was also where he
filled his one-gallon bottles with water that he used for
everything but drinking. He only drank beer.
On the third day of every month his daughter, who lived in
a town nearby, came to pick him up and take him to the bank
to cash his social security check. For this service she'd
charge him half of his pension. "To pay for the gas," she
told him, "you'll drink it away anyway!"
Although it was August, the middle of summer, the nights
were bitter cold. After sundown you could see him sitting
by his campfire, can in hand, staring into the flames.
He told me once that he hated to go to bed because every
time he closed his eyes, he could still see the ugly faces
of the demons from his past.
Sometimes when Dutchess had to make a pit-stop late at night
he would still be sitting there, burning up the firewood
that other campers had left behind.
He never asked for money, he didn't have to. There was some-
thing about his face, round, red and with a pug-nose square
in the middle that made people reach for their wallet.
His blue eyes, always with a twinkle, made me give him a
couple of bucks and I'm normally not so generous with my
money. Campers on their way to the store would stop by to
ask him if he needed anything.
The answer was always the same: "Yeah, pick me up a 12-pack
of Blue Ribbon will you .....if it's not too much trouble."
He would then hand over a crumpled ten dollar bill and more
than once I saw them refuse the money saying: "That's OK,
I'll catch you next time.
Then one morning, long after the sun had come up and warmed
the air, there was still no movement in his camp.
The first thing we saw when we unzipped his cocoon was his
face. His mouth agape but without his usual smile and his
blue eyes, staring into space, had lost their twinkle.
The Sheriff was the first one to arrive followed by the
paramedics in an ambulance and finally the coroner.
"More visitors than when he was alive," I thought.
After they had taken away his body together with his gear
someone raked the dirt around his camp to make it look as if
he had never been there and I placed a mayonaise jar filled
with wildflowers on his table to make sure we all remembered
him at least until the flowers were gone!
He never told me his name but I felt that I had known him well.
