I don’t even know his name, but he’s always around. I see him routinely chain smoking his cigarettes while walking his wiener dog around the block. In the hotter months, his unbuttoned button down reveals a beer belly unable to breathe straining underneath a sweat stained wife beater. In the cooler months, it’s the same outfit, only a faded black leather jacket serves as the top layer. He has a tattoo on his arm but it’s so faded I’ve never been able to tell what exactly it is of. His sepia faded bifocal aviators hide his eyes, and a gold diamond studded Yankees chain hangs on his wrinkled, sun spotted skin. His hair has a salt and pepper mix of color, grown out yet balding at the top creating an awkward crown.
If he isn’t asking someone how they’re doing, about whatever game is on, or how they’re day is, he simply walks some more with his dog until his next opportunity to ask someone, or even anyone, comes.
Every exchange of words I’ve had with him has been short but straight to the point, sort of business like. He asks me how I’m doing every time we cross paths. I’m always okay or doing fine and it’s always the same but it’s good enough for him. He on the other hand, never answers with his voice, but with a strong nod of the head or a smile that ripples the meeting place of his mouth and cheeks. Once he receives confirmation of my understanding that he’s alright as well, our paths separate once again and he carries on as usual.
Every now and then, I sit on my stoop to smoke a few cigarettes and as the time passes I’d see him circle the block at least twice. I wonder about his life… if he has a wife and children or if that little wiener dog is his family. If he truthfully is happy when he says he is or if he just says it to say it. I question his purpose in needing to know how everyone is… if it’s because he’s lonely or just a genuinely nice person. If it is the latter, then I wonder how the world would be if there were more people like him; people who would be outside to be outside, and bring a little funny shaped companion along the way. People who simply wanted to know if those surrounding them at the moment were content; if life is good.
I also wonder if all those deep wrinkles were not just of age but from years of experiencing life lessons the hard way, giving him wisdom beyond his age. If he smokes so many cigarettes, killing possibly two packs a day, from anxiety or even from asking himself all these questions. I wonder how his skin became so blotchy, and in turn making me fear a human’s natural and slow decomposition. Why it seems as though he never works but looks over worked. Why he has so much energy to walk around all day and yet he seems a tired man.
I remember having half a cigarette with him once and not even noticing I smoked that half. I was too deep in my thoughts while paying attention to him talking about me being a Mets fan. Even though it was amusing to have baseball talk with the opposing New York team’s biggest fan, I couldn’t help but wonder about who he is or was; if he was a dashing young man or not. I can picture him being a not so attractive man yet having an intriguing stature and presence. I can see him being even younger and falling in love with being outside all the time, playing in
Maybe it’s just my need to find a deeper meaning in things but he just seems so mysterious and yet, it could all be so simple. This man who’s name is unknown could simply be an older gentleman who’s experienced all the excitement in life already and has diverted to a life more simple; a life where contentment is defined in slowly traversing up, down, and around a block’s radius with his best friend; a man who knows how he wants to spend his remaining years in a permanent state of relaxation. He could be a man who wants life to be good and to know that he is not the only one around who feels the same way. He is a man who, in his character, has much more depth than his sepia faded bifocal aviators.
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