A little over a year ago, I wrote about a man named Al. By reader request, I am reprinting the story here. Unfortunately, due to upheaval in my own life, I lost track of Al and most likely will never see him again. If you see someone like him in your town, lend an ear. Maybe there is something you can do to help them, in honor of Al.
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I have a story to tell. In fact, it is not really a “story” at all, but something going on in “real life.” Since I frequently discuss charitable causes, and am pretty reflexive with the knowledge of different programs, you would think that the answer would be obvious to me, but it just isn’t.
Without further delay, on with the story:
The whole story started one day when I was sitting at a table outside of one of the local eateries. Al was a striking figure, not because he was particularly handsome, but because his appearance just struck you. He carried several rigged up clear pouches around his waist containing a few all purpose spices and handwipes. He wore a few layers of ringer t shirts and a pair of sweatpants. Underneath the shirts, he had some sort of rayon or polyester shirt or garment that came out over his hips. From the distance, it looked like he was wearing a skirt, but it really had sleeves and was tied around his waist. On his feet, are dollar store flip flops.
When you talk to Al, it was clear that he was a kind man who seems like an interesting man who has really lived and done some interesting things in his life, and had a depth of knowledge that you knew that he actually did them, no matter how peculiar it seemed. There was always a deal breaker, however, that after thirty minutes or an hour into his tales, you would hear something that would make some people walk away in disbelief as something didn’t add up.
One day, many years ago, Al decided that he had a calling to travel. He hitchhiked his way across the United States well passed the days when it was something considered safe. He didn’t always hitchhike, sometimes he took a bus, or found someone that he preplanned to travel with for a distance. Either way, he made it to just about every state. He survived in Hawaii by eating peanut M&M’s because the food prices were high, and besides, that was all the protein you need, so he said. He talked about his daughters. He has six of them.
I saw him in a parking lot one day, trimming the bushes, and a friend of mine asked if he could use a meal. I admit there was a little trepidation on all of our parts. Al didn’t know what hit him. We learned a little more about Al. He didn’t see his family because he was “on a mission” that they didn’t understand and hasn’t spoken to them in years. Not sure quite what that mission is about, but he says it is about walking around and talking to people.
We couldn’t decide if he was really a down and out person or was he eccentric, as he did rent a small place nearby. Apparently, he just parked his “stuff” there. He collected things he could “use” like recyclable cans and old boxes, for I know not what. In addition to the tiny efficiency, he had a storage unit as well. Yet, he carries around a mattress. What doesn’t add up is that we definitely know he keeps his things somewhere, and also he keeps talking about his mission and that he has been traveling around constantly for the past twenty years, but yet has said he has lived in our town for at least five.
Part of me wants to talk to the VA and see if there is anything they can do for him, even though he says he went there for a procedure so “they must know about him.” Part of me says that if I am noticing his situation, then that someone who has to do something is me. That half wants to contact his daughter. I know her first name, and the major city she lives in. I want to put an ad on craigslist in hopes of someone knowing her, and to tell her that her father is here, and that he needs some help. Maybe, perhaps, she knows full well where he is and good riddance, rather than what I imagine her thinking. My uncle was also a VietNam Vet. Actually, I never met him. He died before I was born, and didn’t last the year after coming home due to scars in his heart from coming home spit at. That is why I think I have a heart to help vets who don’t seem whole.
For now, there has been no adopted a stray dog, or a child, but a VietNam Vet. We are watching out for him and are looking for him every time we are out and about, and we try to just talk to him to brighten his day and see if there is anything he needs. Somehow, he is provided for. He talks about a lady at the grocery store who will give him sometimes a can of something that had been dented, etcetera. Whatever he gets he just loads it with the spices that he carries with him to make it palatable if it is not something you would normally eat plain.
We have not seen Al in a few weeks, and wonder how he has been doing with the weather. There is no way to call him, as he doesn’t have a phone. As soon as I can get behind the wheel to drive that far, we’ll ask around about him.
Definitely, it would be something O. Henry wrote about if it turned out he really was an eccentric zillionaire, as we are so broke but worried about the person who really has it all. But, when you think about it, with 6 daughters estranged, it would never be “all.”
Most of the time, I already know in my heart what to do if only if I will sit and listen (it usually is my first gut instinct), but I benefit from the wisdom of others when I am delving into new territory.

The end of the summer is coming soon, and another patriotic holiday is coming up. Labor Day is not as significant as Independence Day, but sometimes individuals use it as the last opportunity of summer to adorn their boats and porches with flags. There is common knowledge and some myths about how you should care for your flag. I learned something new about the
There are a lot of situations where a dog has bitten a repairperson, a landlord, or anyone else who could unexpected come into an apartment or home.
houndsgood Posted in
Like most large hounds in the state of Georgia who find themselves in her position, she found herself at a county pound. Her number was up. Large hounds just don’t get adopted, nor does anyone else. Her card was turned over just as she was settling in. As most large hounds do, she probably even wagged her tail hopefully as she leaned in to accept the slip lead that would lead her on her very last walk. Was this a strange looking dog crate they were putting her in? But there were other dogs in there. She could hardly moved, even though many of them were sedated or just frozen with fear. The switch was pulled and the air got thick.
So please, resist the temptation to answer an add offering “Teacup” anything unless it is porcelain and comes with a crumpet or lemon wedge. Or buy a stuffed animal like the one at left. Rescue instead. Please take the time to educate people that there are plenty of tiny dogs in rescue. They may not have one at that very second, but if you let them check your references ahead of time, they will keep you in mind should a dog come up, or they may be able to rescue one more knowing you have a home for one.
This very laid back boy is Dachshund and Bassett.
This tiny girl is under 20 lbs and is at Murray County Animal Control in Chatsworth, Georgia. p:706-695-8003 f:706-695-8069, She is very friendly with dogs and people. This shelter is in Northern Georgia, closer to South Carolina and Tennessee
When some folks think about Beagles, they think about Snoopy or a lovable family dog and who could not love them?
