Finding Ninee » Sharing our parenting and special needs stories with heart and humor.

Our Land – You’re a Cop

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Hi, all! Do you know Don from Don of All Trades? He’s hilarious, occasionally warm and fuzzy, and overall pretty awesome. He’s a daddy, a fried chicken protector, a cop, a kickass storyteller, and has become one of my favorite friends.  He’s given me this amazing Our Land today, and I know that you will adore him as much as I do after you read it. So well, here you go.

Our Land – You’re a Cop

“You’re a cop,” she said as matter of fact as though she was expecting me. I had just sat down on the opposite side of the bench from her.

“Why do you say that?” I answered. “Because I’m at a bar half drunk on a Tuesday night,” I half-ass joked.

“I know who you are, Officer Don. We all do.”

She had a raspy, throaty voice that I’m ashamed to admit that I think I’d find sexy in another woman’s body.

I judged her to be in her fifties, maybe even her early sixties. I was a couple of years away from thirty myself, and still living life like a single man should. I was in a relationship with the woman I knew I’d spend the rest of my life with eventually, but I still liked hanging out with old farts in taverns way too much.

I’d bought a bucket of beers and walked out of the crowded bar I was in because the karaoke was absolutely unbearable.

I was on the back patio drinking through my bucket and minding my own business, when I noticed her across the street. I think she was watching me.

It was a cold night and she was alone in an open area of the closed farmer’s market where many local, homeless people congregate during the day. They generally create a nuisance for the vendors and shoppers looking to avoid eye contact and guilt for not giving handouts to these people who they know will simply spend it on draft beer at Joann’s Shop right there in the same market plaza. The area is technically a park and closed after dark.

She was trespassing.

I don’t know why, but after knocking back a couple of my beers, I’d decided to walk across the street to speak to her.

“I’m not working right now,” I said. “It’s my turn to be a jackass for a change.”

At this point, she was sitting on a bench staring straight ahead. The light from the street lamps was bright enough that I could see the lines on her face clearly. She had a hard face for sure, but there was a softness to it as well. The woman sitting with me on that bench was rough looking, no doubt from some tough living, but her eyes were uncooperative in making it an ugly rough look. That’s how I recall thinking about describing her. Her hair was a tangled mess of thin, sandy blonde strands. Her face was wrinkled and tight, her lips were pursed and trembled at the edges. I knew she was a smoker and wondered if she was a drug abuser.

Her eyes were affixed to nothing in particular that I could tell. I sat there waiting for her to say something.

“Will you arrest me if I break the law right now?” I’m pretty sure she knew the answer and was being sarcastic, but I didn’t know this woman from Eve.

“You are breaking the law right now, actually. The park closed at ten and it’s pushing midnight,” I answered.

She turned towards me and smiled.

Her smile was unexpectedly beautiful.

When she smiled, she looked decades younger than the 60ish I thought she was. Her tight, wrinkled skin relaxed towards the edges of her face and her green eyes sparkled in the artificial lamp light. I’d been face to face with hundreds of down on their luck people over the course of the few years I’d been working in that area of the city, and almost every one of them had defeat on their face. Every encounter with a police officer was an understandable chore for them. Looking into their eyes was like looking down a well. They grew darker the deeper you looked. This woman’s eyes were not dark. They sparkled with a brightness and hope that was almost shocking to me. Her circumstances made them seem even queerer than I think they’d otherwise be. Were this woman trying to sell me perfume from a Clinique counter in a department store, her eyes would still be outstanding, but in this dark, cold Tuesday night in the middle of winter, trespassing in a city park, they were sensational.

She suddenly turned her smile into a brief fit of laughter that sounded sincere, but pushed to the brink of insane just a tad as well. She stopped after several seconds and spoke again.

“So you’re not interested in arresting me?”

“I told you I was off. Plus I’ve had a few beers,” I said while pulling a Bud Light bottle from my coat.

She stared ahead again, into the darkness somewhere beyond the lamp light.

After a moment of silence, I started to feel foolish for having come over to talk to her at all. What was the point? I wasn’t going to shoe her away or risk getting into a confrontation over something as stupid as a trespassing while I’d been drinking. My buzz had suddenly faded and I was feeling guilty that I didn’t at least have any money to give her.

She reached towards the ground on the other side of our bench and pulled a bottle of vodka from somewhere and pressed it to her lips. Country Club was the brand, I remember that. She took a healthy swig and returned the bottle to the ground before looking off into the darkness again.

We sat there for a few minutes. She stared ahead and I wished I was anywhere else on the planet but on that bench, or at least that I was a smoker. I’d have something to distract myself, if I smoked.

Finally, to break the silence I asked her if she was wearing contacts.

She continued staring into the darkness somewhere beyond the street lamps for several more seconds. She reached into her coat pocket and pulled out an already smoked on cigarette and put it between her lips. She lit the cigarette with a lighter I never saw, inhaled deeply and then held the smoke in her lungs as she suddenly averted her gaze upwards towards the stars. I noticed a tear fall down her cheek as she exhaled. It was followed by another and then another. She wasn’t sobbing or anything. She was just having what looked like one of those good, cathartic cries a person suddenly gets when they hear a certain song or watches a touching video.

“No,” she finally said. “I used to wear them, yes, but look at me. I can’t afford such a thing anymore.” She reached into her pocket again and pulled out a pair of glasses which she promptly put on her face. She looked at me again with a cocked head and made what the young people today might call a duckface before pointing to her head with a gun shaped hand and pretending to blow her brains out with her hand pistol.

It was done with a sort of school aged girl silliness that made me laugh out loud.

The glasses were missing one lens and were taped up on the one side that did have an arm. The lens that was in place was scratched up pretty good.

“You like my glasses, do ya?”

“I asked you if you wore contacts because your eyes are really green. They’re brilliant.” I drank from  my beer, pleased that in my mind, I was being nice.

Mercifully, she smiled what I recognized as a smile of gratitude and I wondered how long it’d been since she was complimented. Everyone likes to be complimented from time to time.

“Thank you,” she said.

We sat on the bench, drank and talked for a little bit longer.

She was very engaging , not like most of the people who hang out in this park after hours or even during open hours. She was sharp, obviously intelligent, I could tell.

At some point, she mentioned her husband and I cut her off.

“You have a husband?” I had assumed not. I had assumed that she was homeless since she was hanging out alone drinking Country Club Vodka on a park bench at midnight on a cold winter night.

She took a last drag on her cigarette, exhaled and then sighed a little bit.

“I had a husband,” she said.

She grabbed her bottle again and took a huge swig. I wondered how much she could drink and still stand up because she was hitting it pretty hard tonight.

She offered me a swig which I refused appreciatively.

“Suit yourself,” she said. “Cheers.” She raised her bottle to her lips and finished that fifth off right then and there. She had nearly half  a bottle left when I first saw it and it was gone now in just a few drinks. I was impressed.

Silence again for a few more moments and then she started to say what I assumed she was wanting to say the entire time we shared that bench.

“I was a fairly successful saleswoman. My company was having a celebration in Orlando for some of the top sales people in the central Florida region that year. It was going to be a great weekend away and we were all looking forward to it. My husband and daughter were going to join me as soon as he got off work on that Thursday Night. He was a nurse in an emergency room. I’d been telling my husband to quit that damned job for years. It was too stressful for him and I was making enough money that he didn’t have to work, but he loved it.

I was in Orlando to celebrate selling more pharmaceuticals than anybody else did that year for my company, at least in my region, when my phone rang. I ignored it because I didn’t recognize the number. The same number then showed up almost immediately on my pager so I returned the call.”

She looked ahead for a bit and made that duckface with her lips again, but it wasn’t a playful face. There was something about that look that made her cute. It was her thinking face, perhaps. Her glasses were still on her face, the side closest to me missing that arm that rests on your ears. The duck lips were being used to keep from blubbering; I recognize that now. She sucked her upper lip behind her lower teeth and sighed again. She looked towards me, but not really at me. She was looking through me at something I’d never be able to see. She blinked herself back onto the bench and tried to take a great big swig from her empty bottle.

“Fuck,” she whispered to nobody in particular.

She finally looked at me and seemed almost surprised to see me sitting there still. She walked the empty bottle over to a trash can and kissed it before tossing it in.

“Good night, sweet friend,” she told the most recent, empty love of her life.

She sat back down and continued a story that I could already have predicted the ending to. It was really just a matter of how.

“He died in an accident on the way to Orlando that weekend. He and my daughter both. A friend of my daughter’s was hurt just a little bit. Thank God she was ok.”

I inhaled deeply, exhaled loudly through my nose and told her that I was sorry for her loss.

I was younger then and admittedly sucked at being supportive in situations where humor is wholly inappropriate. I didn’t know what else to say. I didn’t have a wife or kid yet so I didn’t appreciate the loss she must have felt like I do today, reflecting on her story.

We talked a bit more and I told her that I’d like to meet her at our bench again while I was working so I could help her out somehow.

“It’s not charity; it’s my job. I WANT to help.”

She agreed to meet me at our bench on a designated date and time.

“Well, you know my name somehow, so what’s yours?” I asked her.

“Somehow? No, here’s how. The other homeless people talk. They talk about you and the other cops sometimes. Fuck, you’re here on your bike everyday for Christs’s sake. You’re ‘that bike cop, Don. That’s what they call you, bike cop Don. They mostly like you as much as they can a cop, if you can believe that.”

“I’ll take that any day,” I said. “So, yoouuuuuuuu…?”

“Katy. My name is Katy.”

I must have looked confused because she asked me if that was ok.

“Oh, sure, yes. Sorry. You just don’t look like a Katy to me.”

She chuckled. I may have offended her, I have no clue.

“What did you think my name would be?” She asked.

“I had you pegged for an Alice or maybe a Marilyn for some reason.”

“Those sound like grandma names. I’m only forty-one years old you know?”

“Hmmm, I thought you were maybe in your early thirties,” I lied. “I’m no good with ages, obviously.”

“You’re no good at lying either, kid.” She said as she was walking towards that darkness she kept staring into earlier.

She never did show up to the bench as we had agreed, and I never saw her again.

I know. Right? He’s pretty fantabulous. Here’s a bit more about Don:

Don and son Cool

Don and some random kid

Don knows a little about a lot of things but has mastered nothing. He’s not ashamed of that. He’s wanted to learn so many different things, but gets into something and then, like a three year old distracted by a bouncing ball, quickly finds another thing that demands his attention. He can do many things half-assed – homebrew beer, cook, be your lawyer, put in a new ceiling fan…

His is not a blog about anything in particular. No cause. No disease. According to him, he’s just a regular guy with many (mostly asinine) thoughts and opinions which he’s fixin’ to share with the internet.

Don is a serviceable husband and father to Ace (9), Cool (4), and G$ (22 months).  He and his wife wouldn’t change anything about any of them, for the most part.

Check him out. You won’t be disappointed, I promise.

 

Don’s late-night selfie in reply to my photo request. I’d asked for one of him as a young cop for obvious reasons. This is what I got.


  • That Girl Ryan - Of course, right when you want to make fun of Don he writes stories like this and then you can’t. Such an interesting perspective on the different lives of other people. Really enjoyed this.January 15, 2014 – 9:22 amReplyCancel

    • Kristi Campbell - I know, right? I was so planning on making fun of him too, but just couldn’t bring myself to do so because he can be pretty awesome at times. Like this.January 15, 2014 – 9:38 amReplyCancel

    • donofalltrades - Make fun to your heart’s content ladies. I’m happy to be here for that. Thank you, otherwise.January 15, 2014 – 11:35 amReplyCancel

  • Emily - I gotta say first that Don is quite a gifted storyteller and writer. You bring to life these experiences from your past and I can truly picture it all, down to the tears and wrinkles you describe. Thank you for sharing that – it’s clear that even though you never saw her again, she had a big impact on you from that encounter.January 15, 2014 – 9:27 amReplyCancel

    • Kristi Campbell - I agree, Emily! This story makes me wonder where Katy is now.January 15, 2014 – 9:38 amReplyCancel

    • donofalltrades - Awe, thank you, Emily. Honestly, these real people stories write themselves for the most part. I’m just glad to remember some of them.January 15, 2014 – 11:37 amReplyCancel

  • Kenya G. Johnson - This was very poetic – beauty in tragedy. It brought me to tears. Don’s writing here was so deep – something I look for in books – a story that grips you and for an instant you become part of the scene. When it’s over, you wonder how everybody is doing though it was all fiction. The fact that this was real – just wow.January 15, 2014 – 9:46 amReplyCancel

    • Kristi Campbell - Kenya, I got teary as well and you’re right – it’s such a compelling story. I wish we knew what happened next.January 15, 2014 – 9:59 amReplyCancel

    • donofalltrades - Thank you for the amazing comment, Kenya! Really! I wonder sometimes about a lot of the people I’ve encountered over the years. I like to imagine their lives turned out better than most of them probably did.January 15, 2014 – 11:39 amReplyCancel

  • Janine Huldie - Wow, I totally was blown away by Don’t story here and actually a bit at a loss for words here. I was definitely shedding some tears about this poor woman’s experience and the optimist in me had hoped that there was more closure for this chance meeting, but still left me such a picture of that night and conversation, too. Thanks for sharing Don with us.January 15, 2014 – 9:46 amReplyCancel

    • Kristi Campbell - I was blown away by it too, Janine! Completely.January 15, 2014 – 10:08 amReplyCancel

    • donofalltrades - Thank you, Janine. I can still remember the night as though it happened last night, beers and all.January 15, 2014 – 11:41 amReplyCancel

  • Manal The Go Go Girl - Wow Don! I didn’t know he had a serious side to him. That was a beautiful and heart wrenching story. You probably made a huge difference in this woman’s life as she obviously impacted yours. Loved the writing! Thanks for sharing:)January 15, 2014 – 9:53 amReplyCancel

    • Kristi Campbell - Manal – I know! Actually he’s got a few serious posts and they’re really good. He has one about pulling over a woman in an intersection who didn’t have her toddler strapped into the carseat that’s amazing and got him Freshly Pressed. You should check it out.January 15, 2014 – 10:10 amReplyCancel

    • donofalltrades - Lol, yep, Manal, every now and then. I try not to do it too often, as it frightens my regular followers. Some stories are just too good not to share though. I like to think the just needed to share her story and move on with life someplace warmer.January 15, 2014 – 11:43 amReplyCancel

  • Michelle - Wow. That was such a gut wrenching story. I can’t imagine anything worse in life than losing my family. I am going to be visiting his blog for sure. Thanks for the introduction Kristi.January 15, 2014 – 10:40 amReplyCancel

    • donofalltrades - Yeah, I didn’t appreciate the gravity of it back then, but I really do now. Everybody has a story, I guess. Thank you, Michelle.January 15, 2014 – 11:46 amReplyCancel

    • Kristi Campbell - Michelle, you’ll love his blog I think. And yeah, pretty gut wrenching story…January 15, 2014 – 11:47 pmReplyCancel

  • Lisa @ Golden Spoons - Wow! What a story. It does make you wonder what happened to Katy and what happened between the death of her husband & daughter that took her down such a difficult path. Where was her extended family?? Friends?? Great writing and great story, Don! Thanks for sharing!January 15, 2014 – 10:44 amReplyCancel

    • donofalltrades - Thank you, Lisa! I went jogging a few weeks ago and jogged past a man named Blue. He is an old black man, probably the oldest homeless guy I regularly dealt with. I had assumed he was probably dead years ago, but there he was a couple of weeks ago, drinking beer in a parking lot just as I remembered him. Lol. You never know. I’m sure this woman is doing just fine…I like to think so anyway.January 15, 2014 – 11:48 amReplyCancel

    • Kristi Campbell - Lisa, I was hoping that she ended up finding extended family too! I like to think that maybe she did…January 16, 2014 – 12:05 amReplyCancel

  • Jean - Teaching a lesson without preaching. Love it. Thanks Kristi and Don.January 15, 2014 – 11:11 amReplyCancel

    • donofalltrades - Funny Jean, I sort of questioned Kristi as to why it’s an “Our Land” type post, but she gets it better than me, obviously. Part of my concern was that there really didn’t seem to be a moral to the story or lesson to be learned. It was just a story.

      I guess the point is that we all have a story…don’t judge?January 15, 2014 – 11:53 amReplyCancel

    • Kristi Campbell - Thanks for getting it Jean. And Don, thanks for sharing it.January 16, 2014 – 12:06 amReplyCancel

  • Kerri @ Undiagnosed but okay - Wow. I love this, how we all just look over those most in pain. Rather than taking five minutes and a bottle to realize they are handling their pain not only the best way they know how but better than maybe we could. I think you brought some peace that day to Katy, Don. It’s why you ‘are a cop”January 15, 2014 – 11:24 amReplyCancel

    • donofalltrades - I hope you’re right, Kerri. I did sort of feel like I “had” to go talk to her. I wasn’t having any fun in the bar. It’s not unusual for me to go outside with my beer and hang out alone with my thoughts. I had just gotten off work so loud crappy singing wasn’t doing it for me. Who knows?January 15, 2014 – 11:55 amReplyCancel

    • Kristi Campbell - I agree, Kerri! Who knows what stories the people who are so easily overlooked have?January 16, 2014 – 12:11 amReplyCancel

  • Twi - I imagine you have a horde of stories similar to this one. It’s funny which ones stick with you, though.January 15, 2014 – 11:28 amReplyCancel

    • donofalltrades - It’s funny you say that because I was just telling somebody that I SHOULD have a tone of these stories! I mean I do, but it’s hard to recall most in any detail. Some I can, for whatever reason, like this one. If I could remember even half, I’d have a pretty good book to write! Lol. Thank you for reading it.January 15, 2014 – 11:57 amReplyCancel

    • Kristi Campbell - Twi, I so hope he tells them all at some point.January 16, 2014 – 12:26 amReplyCancel

  • that cynking feeling - One can only hope that everyone in law enforcement would embrace the spirit of “Our Land” like Don does.January 15, 2014 – 12:25 pmReplyCancel

    • donofalltrades - It takes all kinds to do the job right. Too many don’s would probably be a mess, but I do appreciate the sentiment for sure! Thanks for reading it.January 15, 2014 – 10:28 pmReplyCancel

    • Kristi Campbell - Cync,
      Amen, sistah. I guess not all cops are dicks.January 16, 2014 – 12:27 amReplyCancel

  • Considerer - Fascinating to see the circumstances you end up in, Don – and always with SUCH compassion for people.January 15, 2014 – 1:25 pmReplyCancel

    • donofalltrades - Drinking beer with homeless people is actually something I use to do pretty frequently, Lizzi. Lol. Thanks for reading and commenting as always!January 15, 2014 – 10:31 pmReplyCancel

    • Kristi Campbell - Mostly with compassion for people. Have you read the fat posts? 😉
      but yeah, I agree, DOAT rocks. Big.January 16, 2014 – 12:28 amReplyCancel

  • Deb @ Urban Moo Cow - I am hysterically crying right now. What a beautiful, heartbreaking story, told so well, so perfectly, down to each and every word, each and every honest observation. Wow. I’ve seen you around the Kristi-o-sphere, Don, but I’d never checked out your blog. So glad I got a chance to read this. Just amazing.January 15, 2014 – 1:49 pmReplyCancel

    • donofalltrades - Thanks for reading it Deb, even though you’ve seen me around before (I’m sure I was misbehaving). These encounters really write themselves, when I’m able to remember them. This sort of meeting is just one of many I’ve had. They’re almost mundane to most officers (maybe not this particular story) that we lose sight of the fact that these circumstances are more the exception rather than the rule, if that makes sense.January 15, 2014 – 10:34 pmReplyCancel

    • Kristi Campbell - Deb sweets! I agree that it was amazingly and beautifully written and I cried like crazy too. Also (sorry but you know – the about me part – I think I might love the term “Kristi-o-sphere.” Like for real.January 16, 2014 – 12:30 amReplyCancel

  • Chris Carter - Wow. I was completely lost in this story and just now pulled myself out of it… you are a gifted writer Don! And the story you shared was powerful.. poetic really. I have a feeling you have many many more where that came from, and surely there are countless hearts that need your voice.

    I know I have read a few of them in the past- this brings me the urgency to find and follow you, so I don’t miss any more captivating moments ever again. XOJanuary 15, 2014 – 2:14 pmReplyCancel

    • donofalltrades - Thanks, Chris, I really appreciate this comment. I’m not normally so captivating, so don’t get your hopes up too high! lol.January 15, 2014 – 10:36 pmReplyCancel

    • Kristi Campbell - Chris, I agree that he’s gifted. He’s got amazing stories and they’re utterly compelling. You should totally follow him.January 16, 2014 – 12:31 amReplyCancel

  • Nicole @ Work in Sweats Mama - This story gave me chills. We rarely think about how close we are to tragedy like the kind Katy experienced. It can completely alter our life’s path if we allow it.January 15, 2014 – 2:25 pmReplyCancel

    • donofalltrades - You’re absolutely right, Nicole. One bad decision or accident can change everything. There’s only so much a person can take before they snap. I like to think she moved on and is doing fine somewhere.January 15, 2014 – 10:41 pmReplyCancel

    • Kristi Campbell - Nichole, I agree that our stories change our lives. I’m not sure there’s a way around life altercation with a story like Katy’s. Sad.January 16, 2014 – 12:32 amReplyCancel

  • Dana - Wow, Don – serious looks good on you. Everyone has a story, and it’s not always what we expect it will be. Thanks for bringing Don to Our Land, Kristi!January 15, 2014 – 2:34 pmReplyCancel

    • donofalltrades - Thank you, Dana. My most popular posts are “serious” ones. I may have to share more of them. I like talking to strangers and hearing their stories. Sometimes, you hit gold with an interesting tale.January 15, 2014 – 10:44 pmReplyCancel

    • Kristi Campbell - I agree that serious looks good on Don, Dana! I loved this story, so much, but also didn’t love it because it’s probably so much more common than we realize, you know? Sigh.January 16, 2014 – 12:33 amReplyCancel

  • Jessica - You do have a gift for storytelling, Don. My heart was racing as she started to tell her story, and I was bawling by the end. I probably shouldn’t have read it at work. 🙂 But it was captivating, and definitely goes along with something I am making a point to remember — everyone has their own struggles, and we should have compassion for them and not judge, because we’ll never fully know the whole story. I can’t even imagine having to go through what Katy did, and I wonder if I could have been any stronger (I doubt it). I can only pray that she is OK now. Thanks so much for sharing this.January 15, 2014 – 2:57 pmReplyCancel

    • donofalltrades - Thank you very much, Jessica. It took me a long time to really embrace empathy and compassion for others, especially dirtbags. I mean some folks are just mean. Having kids really caused me to try to see good in everyone I meet. Everyone was somebody’s baby once, right?January 15, 2014 – 10:48 pmReplyCancel

    • Kristi Campbell - Jessica, I’m pretty sure I’d be even worse off than Katy were something similar to happen to me and you’re right – the reminder that everybody has a story and that we shouldn’t judge is powerful and important.January 16, 2014 – 12:37 amReplyCancel

  • Tamara - Whoa. I am mostly speechless here. (wordless Wednesday, I guess?)
    If it happened to any other cop (other than bike cop Don), I don’t know that they would have held onto the story and released it the way you just did.
    Would love to hear whatever happened to her. Maybe it’s better if I just fill in the blanks with nice, happy stuff.January 15, 2014 – 3:11 pmReplyCancel

    • donofalltrades - Thank you, Tamara! Sadly, there’s not a lot of time for on duty city cops to sit down and chat with people. That sort of sucks. I share your mindset about happy thoughts though. She’s probably on a beach with her new husband and kids right now, right?January 15, 2014 – 10:54 pmReplyCancel

  • Jen @ Real Life Parenting - Once again, I was reading along, totally sucked in. Don, you have a book in your head. (I mean that in the sensible way.) You have these amazing experiences and people you’ve met paired with the ability to tell their story and weave such gripping tales.

    Loved this!January 15, 2014 – 3:12 pmReplyCancel

    • donofalltrades - Thanks, Jen, you’re pretty ok yourself. I appreciate it and I’m glad we’re buds.January 15, 2014 – 10:59 pmReplyCancel

  • Little Miss Wordy - Beautiful story. Reminds me of some of my own during my job at a home less shelter in Houston years ago. I’m not surprised at how touching and we’ll written this piece is as I’ve been following “Bike Cop Dan” for some time now. He’s written some powerful posts.January 15, 2014 – 3:23 pmReplyCancel

    • donofalltrades - Thank you, LMW, I appreciate it. Homelessness it a tough on to deal with…kudos to you!January 15, 2014 – 11:04 pmReplyCancel

  • Tarana - This is the first I’ve read of Don’s writing, and wow! I couldn’t stop reading until the end.January 15, 2014 – 4:34 pmReplyCancel

  • Cowboys and Crossbones - I love me some DOAT. And he never fails to get you with his poignant storytelling because he kicks ass, of course.January 15, 2014 – 5:31 pmReplyCancel

    • donofalltrades - Hooorah! Thanks for coming over here to visit me sweetness! I hope Teddy and you enjoyed it! Rock on!January 15, 2014 – 11:07 pmReplyCancel

  • donofalltrades - Thank you, LMW, I appreciate it. Homelessness it a tough on to deal with…kudos to you!January 15, 2014 – 11:03 pmReplyCancel

  • Angel The Alien - That sounds like something out of a movie! I actually used to know an old homeless guy around town who was usually seen stumbling around with a bottle of vodka. I can’t swear it is true, but someone told me that he used to be wealthy… he had some sort of very skilled career, which I was told was painting prosthetic eyes… but his son drowned, and he just gave up everything. I can imagine doing that… being so heartbroken that you just can’t go on living, yet something keeps you from actually killing yourself, so you just sort of walk away from your life.January 15, 2014 – 11:26 pmReplyCancel

    • don - I remember a homeless man in our area was a former Washington University professor I believe and/or a successful engineer. I never did meet up with him. I knew another gentleman who looked homeless, but always had a bunch of cash on himself, who would come drink at the same bar I did and sit and talk out loud to himself. He was certainly not all there in the head, but he was supposedly a PhD and overall very intelligent man at some point in his life. You just never know, really.January 23, 2014 – 3:18 pmReplyCancel

  • Kimberly - We tend to forget that these people are just that…real people with real lives.
    I love that you shared this.January 16, 2014 – 7:13 amReplyCancel

    • donofalltrades - It took me a long time to get there mentally, but you’re right. Having kids helped me to see other people as people, even the bad or unfortunate ones. All babies once, but something just went wrong somewhere along the way.January 23, 2014 – 3:21 pmReplyCancel

  • brickhousechick - I know that guy, Don. Well I don’t know him know him, but you know what I mean. I can only hope and pray that my son be at least half the policeman Don is. 🙂January 16, 2014 – 4:55 pmReplyCancel

  • Stephanie @ Mommy, for Real. - Don, you amaze me with your depth and insight. Go ahead, say something smartass to deflect the praise. Go on.January 16, 2014 – 5:47 pmReplyCancel

    • don - If I wasn’t so sure that you were being sarcastic, I’d say something like giggity for you being amazed by my depth! Lol!

      But really, thank you Steph, you’re the best! Well, one of the best. Shhh, I don’t want Kristi to get jealous. Older women are funny like that. Oh, shhhh to that part too…January 23, 2014 – 3:29 pmReplyCancel

  • JenKehl - My Skewed View - Wow. I have horrible waking nightmares about things like that. And in them I wind up just like her. A shell just waiting for my turn.
    It’s too bad she didn’t come back. It would have been good if she had, but I’m sure once she told you, you were only a reminder.January 16, 2014 – 6:03 pmReplyCancel

    • don - You could be right about being a reminder. She may not have wanted to ever discuss it again and was worried she’d have to repeat the story? Or, maybe she was just more drunk than I noticed and forgot the whole encounter? I don’t know.January 23, 2014 – 3:48 pmReplyCancel

  • Cheryl - Aaaw, Don. I just read your post over on DOAT and got tears and boogers all cleaned up off my keyboard and now I have to do it again. But seriously… you, my friend, are good people.January 16, 2014 – 8:55 pmReplyCancel

  • Sarah Almond - Don of All Trades. Just when you think you have him figured out he shows that he’s all sensitive and stuff. Once again I’m amazed at the variety of things that we have on Our Land. No group of people left behind! Thanks for sharing this story Don!January 17, 2014 – 12:25 amReplyCancel

    • donofalltrades - Thank you, Sarah! Don’t go telling anyone that I’m all sensitive and stuff though, ya got that? Okay, thanks!January 23, 2014 – 4:02 pmReplyCancel

  • Katia - I’m kind of speechless right now. You should write a book, Don.January 18, 2014 – 2:27 pmReplyCancel

    • donofalltrades - Oh sweet, sweet Katia, thank you very much. I wouldn’t even know where to begin or what to write about, but I like the idea!January 23, 2014 – 4:17 pmReplyCancel

  • Mike - I’ve already become an instant fan of Don’s. I relate to him so very easily. Most definitely someone I would want to have a beer or 5 with. Great post and thank you for sharing him, Kristi! 🙂February 1, 2014 – 9:47 pmReplyCancel

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