I was just doodling away today on the Purple Line Express when a homeless man came into our car and began to apologize for himself. He spoke of many reasons why he was homeless... I think he said had had been homeless for 3 days... and something about terminally ill with cancer. You see, he was practically impossible to understand. He sounded like he had a couple golf balls in his mouth. I kept my head down, drawing to keep from attracting attention. Then he proceeded to sit near people and desperately try to get their attention, headphones or no, a technique and tenacity I had not seen before. If he was completely ignored, he moved on. Then he stopped next to me. As I proceeded to tell him I had no change, he noticed my drawings. He took time out of his busy schedule to compliment my ability, so I looked up. He looked like he was missing a large portion of his cheek that was then sewn together, half of his upper lip, several teeth, maybe an eye. He asked me if I was a cartoonist. I said yes; he acted as if he had just met President Obama. His face, the part that was still intact, lit up. He then asked me something. I was partially stunned that I even understood what he said, let alone what he was saying... he repeated himself, this time making a sweeping circular path with his hand. He had asked, "Are you syndicated?" When I said no, my five seconds of fame ended, and he moved on to solicit other riders.
I should note that I decided many years ago, when I caught a woman lying who was begging for money with a very elaborate story about kids and needing money for a train ticket, that I wouldn't give money to people on the street, train, anywhere. I know, now you're waiting for me to say that I gave this guy some money. Well, hate to disappoint, but I did not. In hindsight, I should've offered him the page I was drawing. I guess I have become numb to this sort of thing, maybe even a little heartless.
After he left, I tried to draw him from memory. The doodle in the upper right-hand corner of this page does not do him justice. The kid pointing was drawn before him, as was the weird dog, cat and bird at the bottom. I also found out that I could not draw an ostrich from memory.
Years ago in Boston a woman came running up to me in tears, said that her kids were in the car and she was out of gas and she needed to get them to the hospital. I gave her the two bucks I had on me and wished her good luck. About a year later the woman runs up to me in the same parking lot (across from Mass Art) blathering about her sick kids in her out of gas car. I told her she already hit me up with this story a year before. The waterworks suddenly stopped and she walked away all nonchalant. So I can empathize with ya. I automatically assume grifter when someone comes up to me now.
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