Letters from Hawaii. #1.

(Editor's Note: We have a friend who lives on Maui and is fascinated with the human 'wildlife', i.e. homeless people. He has no qualms about approaching them and talking WITH them, not DOWN to them. We think you'll enjoy his frank, unedited occasional reports and reflections.)


Yesterday I stopped to talk with "Shades" (his official, one-word name) at the park.  I'd seen him for months in the mornings sitting on the bench playing his guitar and harmonica, like Dylan.  I'd never spoken with him previously.

He's homeless "but not like the others".  He said he does eat at St Theresa's from time to time, but he doesn't talk about time in jail, or drugs or other things that the others talk about.  He's "not like them".

He's a writer, masquerading as a song writer and playwright.  He said that when he came across a book by a Norwegian fellow Knut Hamsun, "Hunger", it changed his life.  The truth became him.

He's 67.  He's been on Maui for 16 years now.  He sleeps in someone's truck most nights.  Has one set of clothes we washes at a friend's place.  In these 16 years he's only been invited into someone's house at night 3 times.  

He says he writes songs that are better than Dylan's, and writes screenplays better than whoever.  He's got a movie script that's being reviewed currently, which is very funny, he says, and when it makes money he'll buy a place up country and live there half the year.

He says he's disappointed with himself.  I asked him why.  He said it's because he hasn't been recognized for his talents.

He's gone to college and studied literature.  He calls me "brother" a lot, though he remembers my name.  I'm sure it's not because he's religious.  He can talk a lot, and occasionally asks what I do.  I wore a Laos shirt today, and yesterday, and he told me about the time he was in Laos, both in Luang Prabang and also ViangVar or something like that.  (Vientiane?).  He said he went there to get away from the world, but found they had a curfew (in Luang Prabang), and that they had cops (in Viangvar) trying to bust foreigners who bought/consumed drugs.  (He said he liked the opiate cigarettes.)

I told him about your poem this morning about not being appreciated for your art.  He said "Crying wolf" was not cool.  I told him it was an artistic thing.  I didn't realized it was in response to a NYTimes article.

I may invite him over for Christmas, as Chiwit will be in Vegas.  Should I take the chance, and be the 4th invitation he's had in 16 years?