As the days, months, and years pass I am amazed at how many people I forgot from the old izzy group ministry days. Tons of people passed through our food pantry doors.
I was visiting Obi-Wan at the hospital last month when a hospital nurse came in to check his blood sugar. She knew me. I had no idea who she was. But she said she and her kids use to come to izzy and get groceries several years ago when she was a hurting single mom. Now she’s got her nursing degree and works at the hospital and thanks the CEO that all is well.
I am thankful that the CEO of the universe occasionally lets me see “the rest of the story” from those days. Even if I don’t remember certain people.
But there is one person from those days I will never forget. We shared too many memories together.
Momo, the king of the streets in the fair mother city, was sleeping on one of the cushy chairs in a Starbucks this weekend when I ran into him.
Agent Offspring #2 and I were getting groceries at HEB and decided to get a treat at the nearby coffee joint since my mailman mother gave us something like $105 in starbucks gift cards from her customers. She doesn’t like going there. I don’t mind it. Especially if it’s free.
This was kind of a weird place to run into Momo, since this area of town is way off the beaten path for our homeless friends. But Momo always gets around. I saw him camped out at the mall parking lot once. And that’s WAY off the beaten path.
We chatted for a good while. Actually, Momo rambled on and on with a bunch of homeless mental ramblings and so forth. But I didn’t mind. We all need to be heard and he doesn’t get much of a chance to talk to people. He’s so damn scary looking.
Nothing significant was said or exchanged. But I always forget how much I miss him. Even if he did use to piss me off.
One of my favorite Momo memories was once I ran into him downtown panhandling by the post office. His panhandling approach is terrible. Most homeless guys play the role of the lovable fuzzy tramp looking for something to eat and “god blessin ya” every second. Momo’s approach is to scare the hell out of you.
He’s short, fat, dark, wears the same clothes with stains for weeks until they fall off, and has that psycho pissed-off look in his eye. With his butt crack and gut hanging out he sleeps on a sidewalk like a beached whale. Then when some sucker walks by, he gets up and corners them and gives a direct demand for a buck. It’s such a crock schtick. I’m laughing.
So anyway, I see him do this one day as I’m going to the PO and I yell, “Hey Momo!” like I’m his best friend. Because we are friends. And I give him a hug like I always do.
He just froze with a smirk on his face that said “you’re giving away my schtick. Don’t let on that I’m really a cream puff”.
Thank you CEO for my run in with an old friend.
Long live the king.