Part 2:
If you have not yet read the "Count your blessings, a look into another life" please do so before reading further. You can read it
Here.
I was hesitant to post this but I believe its something that is worth reading, and sharing.
I did return to this industrial complex later, brining some things from myself, rtek.c, and Chrystal, the girl who was with me in the first thread. I pulled the van into the short driveway in front of the chain gate and parked. I stepped out and waked around the second gate through the burnt outbuilding, as I was walking I heard metal on metal clashing sounds, I looked up towards the main building trying to see if there was anyone around or if it was just an animal scurrying about. As I stepped down from the stairs of the outbuilding I looked up again and saw a man, about 5'6", wearing tattered clothes and work gloves staring down at me from the roof of the building.
"How ya doing man?"
He just continued to stare at me.
"You the guy who lives here?"
"Yeah." with a tentative nod.
"I stumbled across this place a week or two back, aint looking to cause you any trouble, but a couple of my friends and I had some stuff we thought you could use. If ya want I can just drop it off and be outta here."
"Nah man, I'm alright. Plenty of people worse off than me, don't worry bout it."
"You sure? We figured you needed it more than any of us."
"Well... Let me come down."
He came down and kept saying as if to reason with himself that he really didn't need anything, but he appreciated the generosity. He was saying how he does alright for himself, saying he eats well, showing me boxes of just expired food that the convenience and grocery stores have to throw away. He showed me around what he had, made small talk for a bit. He was just desperate for someone to talk to. He had a radio that he listend to a lot of talk radio to keep up to date with whats going on in the world. He had a collection of books, he said he enjoyed reading historical books, philosophy and psychology books. He had a blanket and his couch to sleep on, and a collapsible chair.
His name is Robert. He grew up an unwanted child of a abusive father, and as a navy brat. He said his father beat his mother and him as he grew up, as they moved from naval base to naval base. When he finally left his family he tried to enlist for the marines, but they would not take him because of his flat feet. Dejected from being able to follow the only thing he had ever known and the only thing he ever set out to be he wound up settling down in Ohio. He had a position at a rubbermiad plant servicing and watching the machines, as he spoke of it he played with two small rubbermaid containers nervously. He had found a girl there, and had a child. Then rubbermaid outsourced and closed the plant, laid off all the employees. Robert couldn't take care of his family, he fell into drinking and drug use, alienating himself from those around him. One day in the early 90's he was at a bar, drunk, and got into a fight, beating a man near to death. He spent a few years in prison for the assault, hating himself for what hes thrown away, by the time he got out he had lost his family, his home, he had no job, he had nothing.
He did what he could to stay alive. Moving place to place on his bicycle or by grayhound bus. He said he would avoid the shelters, he didn't like the feeling that he would be relying on uncle sam, who had so readily thrown him away when he was younger, and then again when he lost his job. He had been making a small living for the past few years finding and selling scrap metal, he had been stripping the copper out of the wiring and generators at the building he had been staying at. He would fill a box, of about 70lbs, and put it on the back of his bicycle and ride it down to the recycling center in Burtonsville. 70lbs of copper would get him about $200, not a bad amount of money. Using this money he would buy the things he needed that he couldn't find, taking the bus to South Carolina, where he could find cheap clothes at the thrift stores. Or he would would go home to Ohio to visit the few friends he still had, but he felt he was always a burden, "They always looked like they just could not wait for me to go."
As we were talking I asked if he would ever want another job, and that I might be able to call my old boss and get him a position at UPS up the street. He hesitated, "Noone would hire me man, I'm a banmeplease™™ up, I've got a felony on my record" I tried reassuring him that UPS hires just about everyone. "But I have so much back child support, and taxes, I wouldn't be any better off than I am now." Still as he spoke it seemed like there was a hesitance of thought. He said how he just wishes he could be useful to someone again, but that noone would ever take the time with him. He was surprised that "a guy that looks like you would even spend the time to talk" Most people that came though just would want to mess with his stuff, steal things, and thats why he tried to hide everything, or that they were stoners that just wanted to toke up and mess around with his things. He would finish off whatever they left, packs of cigarettes, the ends of joints, taking some pleasure out of the invasion of his privacy. He felt so abused, as he would be riding his bike people would hit him with the mirrors of their cars, throw things at him, scream at him, he would ask god in anger why he had to live like that. He felt that even god had abandoned him, leaving him to rot, he felt that he had been condemned to hell, even before he had died. He had looked up to the beams that the raccoons would live and think about how easy it would be to take the wires that he used to keep him alive, and end it.
He was a smart, but very sad man. Everything he said had a sense of desperation and loneliness, a feeling of hopelessness, that no matter what he could do he could never rebuild what he once had. I had to leave but he helped me bring everything back from the van. I asked him if he would like me to bring anything back for him.
"If you do come back if you could get me some WW2 history books, American history, stuff like that"
"Gotcha, it was good talking to you man, I'll be back, same time next week?"
"Yeah, sure, aint got anywhere else to be" he said with a sad sort of laugh.
I came in the next week and the chain gate was down. A dozer and backhoe were sitting, imposingly, infront of the burnt outbuilding.
Robert wasn't there, his bike and a few of his things were gone too. He must have packed up what he could and left. I left the books I brought for him on his couch, hoping that he might come back and know at least someone was trying to look out for him and help him, or at least keep him company.
I left hoping he was alright, maybe he went down to South Carolina before it got too cold.
I came back the other day, see if they had torn it down, if he was still there or not. The entire place was empty. Sterile. As if he had never been there at all.
Where his couch once sat on top of a small carpet, with his radio and few other belongings was now gone. The side room where he kept everything else, empty. His hiding places, empty. It was as if everything this man had acquired had just been erased from existence.
So if you take anything from this I ask that you consider what the people around you have to live through, the choices that you make and the impact they have on others, this man threw his life away, noone was there to help him back up. Noone tried to help him, they all just wanted to take advantage of him, or simply hurt him for the
fun of it. I can only hope by sharing what bits of his story he shared with me that you can learn to respect your fellow man, no matter what social stature, lifestyle, or choices they have made. Each of us has our burden to bear, some are self inflicted, some are put upon us, some are choices made after others had made their choices that impacted us.
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