As I pulled into the parking lot of the grocery store, I saw Jamie, an occasional member of the Old Crow book club who was homeless and living on the streets of Sellwood. She was camped in front of an entrance and playing the flute to earn a few bucks.
From our previous interactions I knew she had gone to high school at a long defunct vocational center a half mile away. She had been an expert debater in school and was still trying to be a good aunt to her nieces even though one assumes it's hard to do so when you're homeless. But somehow, Jamie had taught them how to do the Time Warp dance from The Rocky Horror Picture Show.
I got out of the car, but not before stuffing a copy of the new book, The Old Crow Book Club, in the pocket of my pea coat. Jamie was featured in a couple chapters of it and I wanted her to have it.
I concluded my shopping and then exited the store where outside Jamie was playing the flute.
Never in my life have I not given money to someone who is playing music in public. My Mom raised me right.
There she was, going full tilt Jethro Tull, but now accompanied by a black mutt who looked a little surly.
Jamie saw me and screamed, “Matt!”
Why is it that homeless people greet me with more enthusiasm and obvious affection than other group of people I have have ever known?
I fished out the book and presented it. The dog barked! Jamie told him to cool it. She was smiling wider than Teddy Roosevelt.
She said, “I already got a copy of the book! I'm reading it now! I love it! Thank you!”
No one had ever thanked me for writing a book before.
I gave her another copy of the book and said to spread it around. I tossed a fiver into her collection and she thanked me. I told her that when the weather warmed up, the book club was meeting at the park for a pizza launch party.
She went nuts for that idea.
Why is it that homeless people I know show more enthusiasm for my books than any group of people I have ever known?
“You can find me busking here when it happens,” said Jamie.
“I'll find you,” I said and I walked away to the car as the dog barked a crazy accompaniment to her playing the flute.
Thanks don
The reason that homeless people greet you with effusive enthusiasm and obvious affection is that you show your love and humanity each time you talk with them. And I want to thank you for writing "Of Dogs and Meaning," "Pioneer Pride" and "The Bonnie and Clyde Files" all of which I enjoyed immensely. Oh Yeah, there's also your blog "Let it Pour" which started my on my own journey of dive bars.