Wednesday, May 28, 2008

In which a chance encounter ends in tacos and enlightenment.

I had never seen anyone look all at once so out of place and so entirely comfortable. She wheeled into the library making little enough noise. The plastic bags tied to her wheelchair rustled and crinkled against one another, their unlikely shapes revealing nothing of the mysterious odds and end they contained. Her clothes followed suit, masking almost entirely the underlying form of their owner in layer upon layer of incongruous and improbable fabrics. The chair came to a stop at the table behind mine.

It started coming off, then, in jackets and scarves, sweaters and kerchiefs. Except for one knotty hand bracing itself against the chair, there was no indication that a human body hid under all that laundry. Each new article came off to reveal a whole new animal which would in turn, surrender its hide to the hand and having shed its skin, disappear.

When all of the necessary pelts had been slung over the back of the chair, it wheeled off again into the stacks, and I pretended to resume my work. But it was too late. My interest was piqued. Everything I had meant to do with my layouts and page compositions had been buried under that impossible wardrobe. It suggested a story that I NEEDED to hear.

But how was I going to hear it? 

I thought of a few great openers.

"So, I notice that you're homeless." 

"Loiter much around here?"

"Nice shawl."

Nothing was working. She wheeled back to the table and commenced to pore over WIRED magazine and the classifieds. I didn't think it could get weirder. Then it came to me. I was hungry. She MUST be hungry. People talk when they eat, don't they? It was 11:15 in the AM. The time was right. I packed up my laptop and made the advance.

I believe my line was "What're you reading?" I was prepared for almost anything. Having been a sort of street person earlier in life, I was ready for her to demand that I take a dictation of her free-form poetry, begin earnestly pleading with me to intervene in the lives of people that don't exist, or shout outrageous insults at me while insisting that my name is Paquito. I was not prepared for Cee. The first shocker came when she explained to me that she was digging through the paper to solve her housing problem, commenting on the difficulty entailed in finding an affordable place with wheelchair access. Further small talk revealed her to be a rather well-read entirely lucid provider of entertaining conversation.

I believe in people as people, and I like to think of myself as a person relatively free of preconceptions. I have conversed and broken bread with a fair amount of the less fortunate from London to San Francisco to Santo Domingo. I try to keep an open mind, I do. And I was a little ashamed when I was surprised at the fact that Cee was not only cogent and cheery, but very intelligent, extremely friendly and socially adept.

I had expectations, I realized, and they were embarrassingly low.

I met Cee half an hour later on the library steps. She was quick to talk about ANYTHING but herself. She wanted to know what I was studying, what was my wife like, what did I like to read. Every answer brought news. Cee knew about the BYU animation program, our latest film, and what Ed Catmull had said on his last visit. She brought up comic books on her own, and confessed that she was often tempted to spend what little she had on them in the same shop that I frequent. 

She revealed little bits of information about herself throughout conversation. Cee had grown up in the Midwest, traveled quite a bit, and always loved to read. After being hit by a truck in Montana, Cee almost died in 1993. Since that time she's been trying to find ways to support herself. She has a hard time finding enough documentation to get government aid (people without addresses often find it difficult to receive disability checks) and has been more or less roughing it since the accident. Her injuries left her with intestinal problems as well-she doesn't have all the necessary plumbing to process certain foods. She did not dwell on these subjects, and only mentioned them with a smile to explain why she couldn't eat part of the lunch or why she was stuck in a wheelchair.

She thanked me for the meal and headed out to an appointment that she hoped would bring her closer to finding a home. My visit with Cee left me full of questions. Was it within the bounds of propriety to pry into her living situation by trying to help? Would I offend her with further questions or assumptions? How many of the nation's homeless are like Cee-good people with bad luck who are humbly trying to make their way? How had she come to be so nonchalant about such a poor standard of living? Was it my place to ask that question? Was she really as cheerful and happy as she seemed? Why had I assumed so much based on her appearance? 

Maybe Cee can explain it all to me the next time we have lunch.



9 comments:

Michael Mercer said...

I recognized Cee from your drawing and had to read the post. I have to tell you how I met Cee too, but I never had a conversation with her. Nevertheless, she has been the subject of one of my stories that I've written and the cause of a lot of pondering on my behalf and every time I see her (at totally different parts of town each time and I'm like --how the **** did she get all the way over there??) my heart races and I tell whomever I'm with about this really cool woman.

So I had just moved to Provo a couple of years ago and I noticed this woman crossing the street in wheel chair--and she wasn't pushing the wheel chair--she was PULLING it with her two feet. But wait...that's a prosthetic foot! So she was creeping along with one good leg and a prosthetic!

I watched her struggle up a short incline while a car raced into the turn lane and almost hit her. The light turned green and I started going but then I knew that I had to go back and help her. I had to take her wherever she was going--she'd be killed if I didn't!

So I turned around a few blocks later and went back, got out of my truck, and said, "Hey there! How are you? Where you going? Can I help you out?"

I moved to push her but she politely said, "No, no thank you. I don't need any help."

I was dumbstruck. She had grocery bags tied to her chair. The grocery store was three blocks away. At how slow she was going it would take her an hour or more to get there. How could she not need any help?

But then I realized that she was really telling me she was totally independent. It's true. She didn't need me. She may be slow, but she was totally determined. And all I could think of was, "Why can't I be like that?"

She had such a profound impact on me that this one little incident inspired me to write a short film called "Mrs. Smith Goes to the Market" about a woman with one leg that wakes up to a house where nothing works (because she can't fix anything due to her condition), and she takes a long journey to the market where she doesn't have money to pay for anything. At the market she sees some young punk steal something. She stalks him and finally catches him red-handed, but refuses to take any reward.

Hey Jake! We need to do a story about Cee! Thanks for buying her lunch and talking to her. I always thought I should stop and talk to her but didn't. Looks like I lost out on some cool experiences.

Brant Moon said...

Wow. Having grown up in a textbook example of rural-hick suburbia, I find it impossible NOT to make preconceptions about people, and I really have to fight it to talk to "different" people. It's really kind of sad.

Inspiring stuff, Jake. Thanks for sharing!

i'm eric armstrong said...

remember when we were talking about how you will be you and you can't help whether or not you bug people? you kinda knew that you were taking a shot in the dark, but you did it anyway regardless of the chance of being looked at like an idiot. i like that about you.

Heather Dixon said...

This is a touching experience.

Anthony Holden said...

Cee is great. This is why it's best to walk places--when you're in a rush you pass right by wonderful opportunities.

Kory Lynn Hubbell said...

Jake, I have seen her around too. I wanted to help her as well, but regretfully I did not stop like Mike. That is not acceptable, even if she would have denied my help. It depresses me that a country as rich as this one even has people who are in her situation. I find that ridiculous.... Still, her strength is inspiring and she sounds wonderful. You should head up to Salt Lake and search for the guy who plays the cello around town, especially at the broadway theater. He offers some great conversation as well.

benjamin trobat -cartoonist- said...

nice work man

kanishk said...

Good work guy..

Work from home

prashant said...

I never had a conversation with her.
Work from home India