Doug stands on his porch, smiling as John, one of the local vagrants walks away. He feels glad for his contributions to John’s life including the old cowboy hat John is now sporting.
John was like many amongst us. He was a person a financialized world had no use for. Worse his mental and physical ailments were a drag on a stuttering economy. Culture had failed John, thought Doug, but I will not.
And so Doug made allowances. Most strikingly he answered to John’s pet name for him, Berry. What a goofy name! I once exclaimed to him. Doug had limited tolerance for it-it messed with the image he had of himself.
Doug was not only a good friend to the discarded, he was the Master of Ceremonies for the myriad events he hosted on his porch. Potlucks and sing-alongs and giveaways contributed to the blossoming community of vagrants, the displaced and the drug addled.
As a self-avowed outsider, Doug has claimed he feels more at ease on his porch with his neighborhood junkies than socializing across the river. Across the river is the yuppy food coop where Doug works part time. His clientele; a gaggle of geese donning hundred dollar yoga pants, spouting socialism. Perhaps, it was the lack of pretense of his neighbors that felt more honest.
He has pondered this paradox for as long as I have known him.
He is in a moment of repose considering his inquiry when the new beat cop stops by.
“You Berry?” The cop asks
Doug pauses and sighs. “Yes officer, I am how can I help?” Doug asks.
As they say, no good deed goes unpunished
“Your pal John is down at the county jail. You were his second call and well, no second call permitted. He needs his bail paid. Blames you for his incarceration. Hence, why I am here.” says the beat cop.
This stops Doug. “Me?” Doug asks. He raises his right eyebrow.
“Yah the hat. The gift.” Says the beat cop.
“Officer, what’s wrong with giving him my old hat?” Doug asks.
“It’s covered in anti semitic paraphernalia. The DA is considering it a hate crime. And since you are the owner you too may be implicated.” Says the beat cop.
“But I gave him a hat free and clear of paraphernalia. It wouldn’t occur to me! I mean really! For fucks sake.” Doug says.
“Sorry sir. You’re gonna have to come down to the station with me.” The beat cop says.
“But but fuck. Can I have one minute?” Doug asks.
The beat cop nods.
Pressure mounts. Paranoia swells. What am I supposed to do with Daisy? Doug is in full throttle panic right now. Fuck fuck fuck. Better to err on the side of transparency. Doug mumbles. He decides to bring anything that could be counted as evidence, should there be a case against him.
Daisy is his life-sized silicon lover. Doug purchased this marvel of silicon ingenuity after his most recent breakup. He was turning over a new leaf. He proclaimed. He was officially set free from the tyranny of dyadic, heterosexual sis gendered partnering!
Doug grabs Daisy and his rap sheet. The rap sheet tells the story of a politically active citizen who took action on his beliefs. It is an accounting full of acts of civil disobedience and resistance. Daisy, well she is her own category. An anomaly that doesn’t fit Doug’s pattern. Which is the most compelling part of this story.
It is an odd bird who moves against the pattern.
Getting Daisy down the two flights of stairs proves difficult. She weighs over 30 libs. Doug considers pushing her down the remaining stairs but Doug is committed to treating Daisy with respect.
“Sir sir what’s with all the stuff?” The cop asks.
Doug is apoplectic; he starts arguing his case to the beat cop. He realizes he is knee deep in one of his historic patterns and pauses.
“Just in case they want to avoid getting a warrant, officer.” He says. “I say, better to be prepared than not be prepared.” Doug stumbles over his words.
Who’s the crazy one now, he asks himself.
Sometime later. He calls me. I am his one call.
“Muffy, you gotta get me out of the clink.” Doug says.
“I’ll be there as soon as possible.” I say.
Doug is my patient zero. We go back to the days when I was practicing my therapeutic magic on friends rather than practicing on unsuspecting people. Doug always played along heroically. We laughed a lot.
When I arrive at the jail Doug is sitting cross legged on the ground in boxers and a tee shirt. On the bench is an odd looking Harajuku doll with what looks like a faux vagina. Doug looks at me sheepishly as I take in the scene.
“Alfred and Bill needed warmer clothing.” Doug says. “and Daisy, well she refused to sit on the floor.”
I look in the direction of Daisy.
“Daisy I ask?” I point in her direction.
Doug nods.
“Is that a vagina?” I ask.
Doug replies. “It’s quite remarkable, huh? Pretty realistic.” He moves towards Daisy’s privates to demonstrate.
“No Doug please stop.” I say.
He giggles.
“Ok lets go.” I say.
I post bail for Doug and John. In the meantime the DA’s office has decided not to prosecute.
“You’re both free to go.” Says the beat cop
“Officer,” Doug says. “John is in no condition to-”
John’s ratcheting cough interrupts Doug’s advocacy. The beat cop nods.
“How are you doing buddy? What about we take a trip down to the ER and get that nasty cough looked at.” John nods and coughs.
“Here.” Doug says pulling out a wad of cash and counting out 5 20’s. “Just in case John needs anything.” He says.
The cop pauses and takes the money. “Buddy I got some money for you. We’ll give it to the ER folks, ok?” The beat cop says.
John nods and coughs.
“What do you want to do with the hat?” Asks the beat cop.
“I’ll hold onto it for him, for when he gets out. John, I got your hat. I will hold onto it for you. Ok?” Doug says.
John’s coughing jag continues.
“Be good John.” Doug says.
He turns to me with grief written all over his face. I squeeze his shoulder.
“Thank you man.” Doug says to the beat cop. “Come meet your neighbors. It’s potluck Thursday.” Doug says.
The cop nods. “Will do, buddy. Will do.”
“Well, I got some cooking to do for potluck.” Says Doug.
I nod and hold back my own wellspring of sadness.
“Take Daisy with you, ok? I never was good at relationships.” He says.
I look at him crossed eyed.
“Seriously, she is a good conversationalist. Give her a chance.” Doug begs in a hushed tone of voice.
We pause.
“Ciao brown cow!” We say in unison.
“Jinx you owe me a coke!” We scream.
“Double jinx!” We laugh.
“I’ll visit soon,” Doug says.
I smile and inhale the familiar wisps of disappointment that live between us.
What 60 years of being human under my belt has taught me; the patterns persist. It was futile to think it could be otherwise.
Rather than chasing the elusive story that change is possible, consider for a moment a new story. That story isn’t will I/they/You change but rather; is this a pattern I can make space for in my heart?
I smiled.
“Looking forward to it, Doug.” I say.
So beautiful: “That story isn’t will I/they/You change but rather; is this a pattern I can make space for in my heart?” 💖