Tuesday, April 8, 2014

Ol' Dawg

"James, wake up! You can't sleep here," said the cop while nudging a haphazard pile of filthy blankets with his toe. They were in the grungy basement laundry room of a rundown apartment complex. "C'mon James, get up! I convinced the family shelter down the street to admit a lone male...you're getting the last bed...I'll give you a ride."

"FUCK YOU!" replied James in his deep, cigarette-scratchy voice. "I'll walk down there myself! Asshole!"  With that, he was swallowed in the raging blizzard while marching towards the shelter with his blankets wadded under an arm.


Just shy of sixty years old, James had been homeless for most of his life and was a cornerstone personality of the street. Many homeless might stay for a year or two, but James sunk roots around the shopping center and managed to survive. His stringy gray hair was almost shoulder length and he wore a cigarette stained moustache/goatee combination similar to Buffalo Bill. He was tall and because food was scarce with alcohol being his priority, he was slender. Somehow James always managed to scrounge up enough clothing and cold weather gear to get through Colorado winters.

He was a true loner. Many homeless form alliances with one another, but James operated independently. He camped alone, usually drank alone and frequently sat on bus benches or along the sidewalks being alone. Even within a group of homeless people, he sat apart and rarely contributed to any conversation. Nobody knew where he came from or if he even had any family. He refused to talk about himself so his life story was a mystery to all.

Despite his seemingly quiet nature, he became very loud and somewhat confrontational with his steady diet of police contacts. Whether sober or out-of-his-mind drunk, he loathed the police and held nothing back. He knew their routines, to the point where a young officer was keying his radio to update the dispatcher of his location. 

"I'm Code 4 at....uh....at....ummmm," stammered the officer while scrambling to recall where he was at.

"You're at Walker Branch, asshole!" gruffed James' rough voice from the background to finish the officer's radio transmission which was broadcasted over the airewaves.

James rarely cooperated with any authority and knew exactly how far he could push their buttons. Whether being hauled to jail on warrants or to detox because he drank too much, he tested officers.  He would pull back when grabbed and bark obsencities with his booming voice and act as if he was going to fight. But, he knew when to stop and purposefully avoided crossing the invisible line. A few veteran officers who knew James well recognized that he was all bark and no bite and nicknamed him "Ol' Dawg".

One day, James took too long while cleaning up in a fast food restaurant's bathroom where police were called. He was his loud and boisterous self and, as he frequently did, he tested the officer.  James was taken down to the tiled floor where he hit his head. Despite his nonstop bellering, paramedics responded and took him to the hospital. While in the emergency room, he suddenly fell quiet.

James experienced a closed head injury where his brain was bleeding so a window was opened in his skull to alleviate the building hydrolic pressure.

I heard about James and went to visit. A nurse pointed across the room and I immediately noticed his bare feet sticking out of the end of the hospital bed. They were spotlessly clean and not only did the precious hospital worker scrub his feet immaculately, but had also perfectly trimmed the his toenails. I was impressed--not only with the dutiful pedicure but also how James had staved off frostbite all those years living homeless. Someone had also provided a clean shave around his moustache/goatee and the top of his head was wrapped in gauze. He looked so clean and peaceful laying in the bed, but there was no brain activity and a short time later, life support was removed and he passed away.

James, in your own way, you were a signature landmark on the street. You proved being a survivor for so many years and your unique personality is missed. 



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