The Santos Angel(s)

A couple of nights ago I went to "the Gathering" and apparently I somehow lost my bicycle lock.  Which is pretty major, considering how many thieves scurry around this city.  So I was in somewhat of a quandry.  Obvious solution was to somehow find my way back up to that place I'd never been but the one time, hill and all, and hope to find it somewhere.

So I asked, was given directions, and actually found my way back to the top.  It was a bit easier this time as I stuck to pavement rather than going cross country like when I was with the group.

But no lock.  No tickee, no lockee.

Looked here, there, everywhere.  And when you've done all that, it's time to say the Serenity Prayer.  So there I am sitting on the bench resting when up walks Santos.  He's exercising the dog, a part-pit bull, part-lab, and he tells me the dog is wearing him out.

We talk.  Glory of glories, but it turns out he's in recovery, has his life back on track, good job, clean for years and years.  That's always good to hear.  So he laid a bit of his understanding of his Higher Power on me and I was totally good with that.  More talk.  Ten children by two marriages.  Twenty-five grandchildren.  Two great-grandchildren.  Thirty-seven souls here on the planet thanks to him being here. (Well, he said, I had a little help!)

I tell him about losing the lock, my fear of losing the bicycle.

He sez, Got any tools?

"Yeah," I say.

Take the wheel off and take it with you.  They won't steal a bike without a wheel.

It was one of those...DUH moments.  Why didn't I think of that myself?

See, I was stuck in this box called the only way to keep your bike safe is to lock it.

And I couldn't get past that.  So all of a sudden Santos comes walking up with a message I needed to hear.

And do you know the Greek word for "messenger"?  It's...angelos.  Angel.

I asked him if he knew how to tie an overhand knot in a scarf by holding and end in each hand without letting go of the ends.  He tried this and that but of course it didn't work.

Then I showed him how it could be done, and he gave me a dollar.  There ya go.  Then he sez, If you're hungry, come on down where the balloons are.

And so later I did.  They fed me, introduced me all around, and were just marvelously warm and friendly people.  I took a couple of pictures of grandkids around the pinata.  And one of Santos himself.  So...if I ever get the little cable which will allow me to transfer my pics from camera to computer, you'll get to see him.

At any rate, Sr. Santos, your esposa, los hijos and all the grandkids and greats...much aloha from the man in the street you reached out your arms to one day.  It was lovely to meet your family there, where the balloons were.

You're in my prayers.  Y'all keep reading my blog now, you hear?

Peace.

Elijah Streetman