Too Much to Fathom

This past weekend I had the pleasure of spending time with one of my favorite peeps upon her arrival back into America’s finest city. After her long week of traveling work and mine of... well... general life chaos, a window seat at a local dive was most appreciated. This was also the only "straight" bar in an area predominantly homosexual. Our view was a busy intersection in a rather eclectic part of town where one is surrounded by ethic restaurants, dog walkers, and a wide variety of foot commuters. Seeing the openness of same-sex couples strolling holding hands, the feral hair and eclectic dress code, a smidgen of faith was restored. The world IS indeed becoming a more accepting place of diversity (which is rather ironic when considering our first interaction)

After a few cocktails the afternoon sun slowly faded into evening and we people watched from our posted up spot, being entertained by the most random conversations. The first walker by was a punk rocking resident of the streets, originally from Michigan, with barbiturate eyes. This guy really got on a rambling tangent about his personal belief in the lack of acceptance of unconventional lifestyles and the decline of society at large.

Despite this, my buddy and I were humorously stimulated by this encounter and got into a whole tête-à-tête about opening an entertaining bar, right down to concocting a signature drink, and how we could employ all of our friends in their particular area of expertise, thus contributing our part to the employment rate in a struggling California. (Funny how imagination works when one can think without limits of reality). While I would love to divulge the details, I will keep them under wraps on the off chance we are ever in the position to actually open this imbibing haven.

The second exchange had a much deeper effect on me, although truthfully, it was the following day while reflecting on the dialogue. A young man was passing the window with a hardbound book, circa 1939, we later found out. This caught our attention and was a grateful distraction from the crazed Michigan musician. This book started a conversation I will never forget because of its profound aftershock effect on me.

The strangers name was "Poodle" and he had the most beautiful bright blues eyes that sparkled when they caught the last of the sunlight and were clear of any sign of recent drug use. Despite their vividness, I saw a sadness lingering. We soon found out he was only 23 and had been diagnosed as HIV positive at age 18. He shared with us his goal to get off the streets and into a clean living home that specialized with assisting gay, lesbian and transgendered to maintain sobriety. He also told us that his ambition was to speak at local high schools about the importance of practicing safe sex.

I was so moved by young Poodle. He had a gentle and kind soul despite enduring street survival and having a life threatening disease. He had a positive outlook and ambition to do great things with his life and his community. I doubt he realized how our brief windowpane banter made me take a hard look at my own dilemmas. I have no way of reaching him or following up on his progression, but the determination in his voice will not soon be forgotten.

To most people he would appear to be another street person, someone insignificant, but to me, he was an inspiration and a reminder to me to judge less and have more compassion. If there were more people like Poodle in this world, it would be a much better place.