In Praise of 'Ohana

'Ohana in Hawaiian means "extended family."  And I suppose that's what I'm in the process of creating here in Austin.

Take last night, for example.

Smokey, the guy who got my computer working again, and his lady, KB, needed a new place to camp and so I invited them down to my neck of the woods.  They'd been staying with an ex-soldier suffering from PTSD, and it was something of a hassle, always fearing he might come home drunk and disorderly, as it were.

The last straw was when he came back recently, drunk, and told Smokey he was going to "try to kill you with my bare hands alone."  Not exactly the welcoming mat, eh?

Ended up Smokey and KB were PAID $200 to move on down the road.

Their first stop was Wal-mart where they bought a new tent and sleeping bags.  Then they ran into me.

They are quite the couple.  Smokey drink his coffee with four creams and ten (not a typo) sugars.  Sweeeet.

KB is the opposite.  I have this major salt addiction, she told me as she sprinkled three packets of salt on an order of medium fries there at Mickey D's.

Sugar and salt.  Opposites attract.

They came to the campsite, set up their tent, then headed out for Sixth Street to make some money, pick up some prime snipes.

KB flies a sign which sez, Free Hugs!  Tips Accepted!

I asked her what kind of money she'd made.

One guy gave me a twenty.  Lots of fives.  Hardly ever pocket change.

I heard them come in around 3 A.M., but I rolled over and went back to sleep.  In the morning they were still sleeping, so I broke camp and went out a different way this time, parallel to the railroad tracks.

And just as I was passing Miguel's little campsite, someone called out to me.  Ahhh.  Miguel and another guy sitting on the tracks, smoking.  I parked the bike and went to join them.

Other guy was Kevin.  Scruffy, of course, this being the street.  When he reached out his hand to shake, I saw his index fingernail looking all browned and shellacked from smoking snipes.  Four day growth of beard, whiskers turning all gray and white.

I sat with them, smoking.

Talk somehow got around to cockroaches.  Miguel pushed up his sleeve.  See this bump? It's a cockroach got under my skin.  Lives in there now.  You can see him?

Well, yes, I said.  Now that you've pointed him out.

He won't leave, Miguel said.  Just lives in there.  Quiet.  But won't leave.

I had seen Miguel around, wearing a ton of clothes even in the hot.  Now that it's cool he's still dressed the same.  A man of indeterminate age.  50s or 60s.  Who can tell?  I asked him if he stayed warm last night.

No.  I had two cans of beer and I couldn't even drink one, it was so cold. But it was good to wake up and have something to drink, y'know?

Of course.

This is how the day began.