At 5:30am I groggily emerged from my warm bed into the cold morning. As I shuffled through the living room, the smell of fresh-brewed coffee wafted from the kitchen. I rounded the corner ready to pour myself a cup of hot coffee before hitting the gym, only to find coffee all over the kitchen floor?! Still half asleep, my mind took a minute to process exactly what had happened. The previous night, when I prepared my coffeemaker for the next morning, admittedly somewhat stoned, I had forgotten one integral component. The coffee pot. Which was still sitting in my dish rack. Whoops. I don’t think this is quite what Folgers had in mind when they came up with their jingle. Thankfully, I was able to salvage one gritty cup of coffee from the filter basket and after 15 mins of cleaning, was off to the gym.
Month: April 2016
A Moment of Your Time.
“Loner, I hate to do this, but may I have a moment of your time?!” Keith exclaims strutting towards me as I exit my parked car. I had just passed him about half a block away on my way to work and he’s already in the parking lot, which means he must have started walking as soon as I waved good morning. While I’m not threatened by Keith, despite the fact that he stands around 6’5” and 200 lbs I’d guess, he does have his manic episodes, so I’m not quite sure what to expect.
Keith has been a fixture near my work for years and over that time I have gotten to know him a bit. He’s been homeless since I’ve known him. Keith worked at the nearby laundromat for a while, helping keep the place clean, before it went out of business years ago. Keith now spends most of his day sitting under a pine tree at the corner of the block. Exchanging pleasantries with various people, from construction workers, to other people who work nearby, like myself, and even people just passing by. He’s originally from St. Louis and the details on how he ended up in Los Angeles are a bit hazy, but given his size I assume he may have played basketball at some point and recall that he’s into music. Once when I was leaving work wearing an old Slayer shirt to workout in, Keith yelled out “Slayer! Infamous butcher, angel of death!”. This surprised the hell out of me and made me laugh for a good block or two as I drove to the gym. I never would’ve guessed middle-aged black homeless man would know the lyrics to Slayer’s “Angel of Death”.
Keith is now standing inches away from me, with a very intense look in his eyes. “Loner, when I was working at the laundromat, I was an angry, stupid motherfucker!”. “OK?” I half chuckle out, because I’m not quite sure how to react to this information. “Thank you!” Keith replies, shaking my hand and strutting his way out of the parking lot. I stand there momentarily stunned, as I try to process what just happened. It’s nearly 9 p.m. now and I’m home, but I’m still thinking about this brief exchange. All that I can make of it, is that it’s possibly some form of redemption. Possibly he’s trying to positively affirm his past, so that he stays on what he believes is the right path. I don’t know him well enough to ask, but it reminds me that all of us, ideally at least, should strive to be a better person than we were the day before. Life is about growth. Without that, we stagnate.
Young Men!
“Young men!” Casanova, the waiter at El Coyote, shouts out as my father and I enter the dining area. He greets us like this every time we eat there. We’ve been eating there for years now. While I’m sure he greets many, if not all his male customers in this manner, it still feels genuine and I can’t help but laugh and smile when I hear it. His zest for life is contagious. Casanova truly seems happy to be alive and enjoying every minute of it to the fullest. If I were in his position, hustling all day on his feet, I don’t know if I’d be quite so cheery and upbeat. Hell, I often bitch about sitting in a comfy chair at my desk all day and doing paperwork, let alone running scalding plates of carnitas to ravenous customers. Life is often about perspective. It’s easy to take life for granted. To forget just how fortunate we are to be here now. Limitless possibilities available to us. Each day, providing us some new experience. Luckily we have people like Casanova to remind us.