Ed

Ed. I will never forget him. I learned a lot about life from Ed. I learned a lot about poverty. I learned a lot about myself. The funny thing is, I'm not exactly sure what I learned.

We met Ed the first time we went to look at a house we were buying in an "iffy" part of town. It was all we could afford, and people were predicting a make-over for the area that would increase property values, and drive away some of the graffiti, gang activity and general instability. We kept seeing Ed and his dogs, Unique and Echo, everytime we got off at our exit. He'd be making a place for them to sleep on the sidewalk under the overpass. We never saw him ask for money. We stopped once and asked if he needed food for the dogs. He said he could use some, so we went and got a bag of food for his dogs, then a hamburger and coffee for Ed. This became kind of a regular thing. We'd bring dog food, lunch or dinner, a little money from time to time. We'd chat. Once we asked him if he needed anything and he said, "No, we're OK for now". We were amazed and impressed. We started checking on him frequently. We'd make plans to meet him somewhere a few days out, so we could make sure he and the dogs were OK.

Strangely, Ed was never drunk or high when we saw him, which got to be more and more often. I commented to my partner that if I had to live like Ed, I would certainly be drunk or high as often as possible, because there is no way I could survive that way. Eventually we asked Ed if he was, in fact, clean and sober. "Very much so," he told us, using his signature expression. He said that he had gotten himself sober a few months before, as a result of waking up one day and not knowing where his dogs were. He found them, and committed to sobriety on the spot. It was actually kind of strange to see him living amongst a whole bunch of other homeless people in the area, who were no less in need of help than Ed, but often so drunk or high they were unreachable. In the middle of all that, you'd see Ed building a trailer for his bicycle so that his older dog, Unique, could ride when she was tired, getting his lunch, feeding his dogs - living his life. He made us laugh against our will when he talked about moving from "the ditch" to "the bush", the way other people talk about moving from Colorado to California. We usually found him "at the bush" in the evenings, though sometimes the police would roust him out. When it rained, he told us, he used trash bags to protect himself, his dogs, and his things. He lived for his dogs, and his bicycle was as good as gold to him.

Eventually, we asked Ed to come over to help with some yard work. We fed him, paid him, and offered him a chance to shower and wash his clothes. He was, as always, polite and good-humored. He did a good job. When it was time for him to go back to the bush, we just didn't feel right about sending back out to the street. We asked if he wanted to stay on the side of our house. We bought him a tent, bedding, ran a chord for a light outside, and told him just to knock when he needed the bathroom. By this time we knew him well enough to feel safe in his company, but our house was very small and we already had 5 dogs of our own! We debated about making a place inside for him, but decided to see how the tent plan worked out. The first time it rained, plans changed. We stored some of our things, moved him into a small room in the house, gave him a key, and began the complex process of living with two sets of dogs who didn't quite get along.

Ed lived with us for just under a year. During that time he got a social security card, a driver's license, a cell phone (we put him on our plan), a Medi-Cal card, medication that helped him focus and function, a job doing landscaping and a bank account. He made $7.50 an hour. He rode his bicycle to work, and we all rallied to work it out so his dogs were taken care of during the day. He seemed healthy and proud of himself. He talked about going back to school. He bragged about what a great welder he was, and what he could do if he just could get into the union. We talked as if his new job was just the beginning. He got back in touch with his sister in Arizona. She sent him an album of family photos for Christmas. (The only photos he'd still had, had been lost when the police discovered and destroyed his former "home" in the ditch.) He opened presents from us, and our families. We made a Christmas stocking for him, even one for Unique and Echo. He was getting his biological family back, and becoming part of a new one. "I guess this is the best Christmas you've had in awhile," I joked with him Christmas Day. "Very much so," he said, blinking back tears.

Then something happened - nothing. Ed's routine went on, though he piled up some sick-days, and got into a little conflict with one of his bosses. The "little bit" of pot he'd always claimed to enjoy increased dramatically. He worked Monday through Friday, came home, walked his dogs and smoked a joint, (we wouldn't let him do it in our house), watched TV, and started over the next day. If we made meals he'd eat with us, but when we tried to teach him to buy food with his new earnings and cook for himself, he just resorted to packaged food from 7-11. His boss told him he needed to come to work clean everyday (something we were trying hard to encourage), but Ed maintained he only needed a bath "every 3 or 4 days." The room we were providing was starting to get really disgusting. On the weekends, if we asked him to help us with a yard project or something, he'd get a little annoyed because he wanted to watch one of "his shows".

We backed off, maintaining that just because you offer help to someone doesn't mean they have to do what you want them to. Does it? We weren't sure. It wasn't clear to us if he owed us good hygiene, a clean room, sobriety, help in the yard or anything else. It had all seemed so flowing and natural in the beginning. We gave, he gave - the world was good. I think we had anticipated progress. Ed was fine with life as it was.

Then something really happened. We decided to move. The neighborhood showed no signs of the upwardly mobile turn it had been rumored to take, and the crime and general unpleasantness seemed to be increasing. We found a small place in the mountains, stored almost everything, and decided to live a cleaner, easier, "scaled down" life. Ed panicked. "You could get a little apartment," we said. "We'll help you." "I don't any enough money," he said. "What?" We were stunned. "You don't have anything?" After nearly a year of free room and board, we figured that even at $7.50 an hour he'd have something. Apparently, it had gone to fast food, marijuana, and arcade games. We offered to move him with us. "I don't know that place," he said. We offered to help him find a room near his work. "Nobody will take my dogs," he said. We made plans to collaborate with his sister to move him and his dogs to Arizona. "She won't let me smoke pot," he told us. "Well at least you wouldn't be homeless!" we argued. We talked to his boss about a place for Ed and his dogs to stay at the jobsite. We offered to make phone calls, help with money, help him move. We would not leave him high and dry.

The last time we saw Ed we were packing boxes. He made us promise not to leave without saying good-bye. We had made no plans because he'd stopped talking to us about it. He hooked his dogs up to his bike and trailer and rode off to the park to smoke some marijuana, and hang out. He didn't come home that night, or for the next week. He didn't answer the cell phone we'd given him. He didn't come back to say good-bye. We looked for him, but he wasn't in any of his usual spots. We even came back on and off for several weeks. He seemed to have vanished. We didn't get to say good-bye.

Some weeks after we were moved into our little mountain home he called us. "How are you?" we asked. "How are the dogs?" He couldn't answer. He was incoherent. "Are you drunk, Ed?" I asked, strangely stunned. "Very much so," he answered, and hung up. He called from a payphone sometime later to say he'd lost the cell phone. We have never heard from him again.

I think about Ed all the time. He was, is, a good man. He loved us, his dogs, his sister, his family photos. He adored my niece and nephew, admired my parents. He talked with pride about his parents - his hard-working father, his beautiful mother - who had died when he was young. He loved to go fast (cars, motorcyles, bicycles - it didn't matter). He was funny, and talented in many ways. He was my friend, and my family for awhile. I loved him. I miss him. I am not sure what I did or didn't do. I am confused. Very much so.