Will Work for Smokes

Some time ago I had decided that it would look good if I put in a stone wall with a raised flower bed along my south fence in the backyard. So recently, Bree and I made a trip up to Lyons, where the good sandstone is quaried , and placed an order for a full ten thousand pounds to be delivered the following week. Half of the stone was devoted to building the wall. The other 5000 pounds is still stacked next to the garage and will be used to build a patio area.

As with most of my projects, this wall and flowerbed turned out to be more work than I had originally anticipated. Hauling the stone in from the alley, leveling the plane, and stacking the stones to construct the actual wall had been a pretty grueling task in and of itself. Almost every day lately we have had high temperatures in the 90's, which has not make things any easier on those of us choosing to engage in strenuous physical activity during the afternoon hours.

A couple of days ago I finished up the wall. So now all that was left to do was to backfill it with dirt. The wall was actually a little taller than I had originally anticipated and it was clear that this was a job that was going to take more than a few bags of topsoil from the Home Depot. As luck would have it, a crew had started digging the foundation for a new duplex on a vacant lot up the block earlier this week. I took it upon myself yesterday afternoon to go over and ask if it would be ok to take some of the dirt away for my own personal use. I got the permission, although I'm not so sure that the front end load driver who gave me the go ahead had any authority to do so. He just said that if I had a well barrel to go ahead and help myself. While I don't actually own a wheel barrel, I moved quickly to borrow one and was at work within the hour loading the sandy soil up with my shovel and pushing the loads unsteadily through the alley down the block to my back yard.

By the time I had hauled eight loads, I was soaked with sweat and had that nagging feeling again that I had bitten off more than I could chew. For all the work it felt like I had done, it hardly seemed like I had made a dent in the job. As I was shoveling the sandy dirt for my 9th load, a scraggly looking guy approached me holding a beat up old utility bucket and glass squeegee asking if I could use some help. I looked him up and down. He was a tall, lanky white man wearing a dirty white t-shirt and a pair of tattered shorts. I noticed immediately that he was missing a couple front teeth, but he did not smell bad at all, certainly not in comparison to the overpowering aroma of dog shit that was wafting from across the alley from somebody's backyard. As for the teeth, I wondered whether or not they had disappeared as a result of poor dental care, or if I was looking at a case of meth mouth.

My first response was to politely decline his offer. Oh that's not necessary I told him, but all the while while thinking, 'hmmm, could this guy actually do the work?' He was pretty wiry looking and this dirt was really heavy. The man was persistent though. He told me he was only trying to earn a few honest bucks, just enough to buy a pack of cigarettes and he said he wasn't the kind to be standing out on street corners looking for handouts. He chuckled and said "I smoke Spirits (American Spirits), and they're over four bucks a pack now." I'll admit thought that this was funny that he should say that. For a guy so obviously down on his luck, that he should be picky about the brand of cigarette he was saving up for, and because it is a brand I myself am partial to myself, I agreed to let him do some work. After all, anyone who smokes all natural cigarettes with a picture of an Indian on the pack can't be too bad.

He introduced himself as Mike and told me he was from Ogden, Utah. As soon as I handed him the shovel he threw himself into the work. He started off at such a pace I worried he would wear himself out right away in the heat. Mike told me that he had worked construction for years, so this was no big deal. "What's up then?" I asked. "Why are you out on the streets? What's going on that you're out trying to wash car windows and not working?"
"Well, I was having some problems with my old lady, he replied, and just one thing led to another. We were camping one night up in Ogden Canyon and we got to fighting. I got up and told her I was going to the liquer store, and well, now here I am. That was five weeks ago now."

I walked into the house where I found Bree vacumning. She saw how sweaty and dirty I was and asked how things were going. "Great! I hired a homeless guy to finish it up for me." I announced. I could tell that Bree didn't share my enthusiasm. "You know Elizabeth Smart was stolen by a homeless man" she pointed out. "Well yes, now that you mention it. Well, maybe just keep the house locked up when we're out there." I grabbed a bottle of water out of the refrigerator and went back out to help out and do some other work in the yard.

A couple of hours later Mike had just about finished the job. I was amazed. Not only had he done all the work, but I'm pretty sure that he finished it up in a lot less time than it would have taken me. He had worked like a horse. Before I paid him I talked to him a little bit more about his situation and how he came to be doing what he was doing. I asked if he ever worked day labor through one of the many agencies in the area. "No, not really, I like to get up a little later in the morning." He said, "I don't really need to be in this situation right now. I tell myself I'm out here learning how to be humble." he paused "But really that's a bunch of bullshit, I guess what it comes down to is that I'm just being mean." He went on to say that he had been talking to his old lady on the phone a couple of times and had told her that he would be going back, but he was just going to make her wait a little longer. However, as far as Mike was concerned, he was not homeless at all, he was living in a tent he had set up in a friends backyard, so things were pretty good. However, things apparently were not always so good. He told me that he had been homeless here in Denver for two years a while back. What he said next surprised me. He basically explained that he had been homeless for so long because he had gotten strung out on drugs and had "gotten too comfortable. They make it too easy to be homeless here in this town. They give you food, clothes, a place to stay, you really don't have to do anything. It would be better if they took some of that money and made people learn a trade or something."

Too easy to be homeless? No incentive to find work? The concepts he was expressing didn't sound like what I would have been expecting to hear from someone, who by most standards, was pretty down on his luck.

I handed him $25, which was much more than he had asked for. He thanked me and said that he thought that was more than fair. All he was looking for was a little cash in return for some honest work. In fact, this was going to cover his expenses for the rest of the week. He smokes about a pack a day, and of course, he does like his morning Starbucks he said with a smile. We shook hands and I wished him luck. $25 well spent, although one of these days I'll have to write about how I feel about the regressive nature of taxes on tobacco products.