BBQ-ing Solo

Last week I barbecued solo. Travis sporadically decided to go play in Idaho and Mark never works the first Wednesday of the month.

The week before I had made Dan a birthday cake. In reality I made him brownies with frosting and sprinkled with chocolate chips, but he didn’t know the difference. He loved it. He confessed it was the best birthday cake ever.

Dan's Birthday Cake

Dan the Can Man was born August 28th. He was so excited to know about his birthday cake that he told his friend Tim, who came along. It was enough for Dan to remember I would  make him a cake since I had told him of it nearly a month before the date. A month is a long time for someone like Dan to remember anything. He was most likely drunk when I told him.

When Dan isn’t drunk, he usually exclaims, “I’m not drunk!” with utmost surprise. And then wonders why he isn’t.

I gave Dan two gigantic pieces of his cake, Tim one, and shared the rest with others sitting around. It was quickly demolished.

A week later I arrived under the bridge alone. Dan was there. He was more drunk than ever before with red booze dripping down his beard and his hand gripping a container under the breast of his jacket. After the BB-Q a cop would ride after him on a bike and give him a citation for carrying an open container in public and kick him out from under the bridge.

But before all that, Dan sat on the wall hollering drunken exclamations and told me that Tim, who had been inside for a month after graduating from the AA program, was in jail after ‘messing up’. He’d started drinking again and played his Metallica music too loud and now would be kicked out of his apartment and end up back on the streets again.

“You don’t want to know about Tim,” he said. “He’s in jail. He says hi. He loves you,” he told me.

Tim and Dan eat cake

Dan then proceeded to announce, in a very loud voice, news-worthy warnings to anyone who’d listen.

“The ‘canes are sweeping in toward the gulf, heading for the oil spills!” he exclaimed like a blaring news radio announcer.

“But we live in Oregon,” I assured him. “We don’t live anywhere near that area so we’re safe, right Dan?” I said.

“The hurricanes are sweeping in toward the coast!” he repeated.

It took several times of assuring him that we were safe in Oregon before he changed his announcement to, “The ‘canes are heading in toward the Gulf, headed straight for the oil spill, but we’re safe. We live in God’s country, he’s on our side. We’re safe.”

“Hey, I still got some of that cake you made me, pretty lady,” he told me. “I told my friends the prettiest lady in Sellwood made me a birthday cake and they said, ‘well that’s just perfect then’. And that’s perfect then ’cause the prettiest lady in Sellwood made me a cake. So that’s perfect, right?”

Two men were under the bridge dressed in slacks and button-up collared shirts. They were videotaping, documenting the people living under the bridge who the police announced were about to be kicked out. Postings hung around the area informing the world that they were about to kick out anyone ‘living’ in the area.

Everyone had eaten and dispersed. I loaded the barbecue and supplies in my car and was closing the boot when I looked up and into the eyes of Angel (On-hel), the little sixty-something Mexican man who I see so often. We instantly communicated without words. I sadly announced the end of the BB-Q, he expressed an disappointed understanding, knowing he’d arrived to late, and shrugged his shoulders.

Angel is very quiet. He only speaks Spanish and is very shy to speak at all. He usually sits alone, far removed from everyone else.

One day I was riding my bike and passed Angel on the riverside bike path. I had a bag of cookies and was happy to find someone to give them to. He’s always so grateful. I’ve never seen him smile.

I felt horrible. He looked so sad. I riffled through my bag and found four-dollars. Enough to buy a meal at the popular homeless hangout up the road, Burger King.

I closed the door and walked over to him. Handed him the money. He tried to refuse it, unsuccessfully, and then looked down and started to cry.

It was only four-dollars.

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