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Show Our predetermined meeting time was 7 A.M. When I arrived at 7:15, there were about four of our group standing around wishing they were in bed too. As I got out of the car, I swore to myself that I would just drop off my eggs and bread, and make tracks out of there. From a former Grinch by Erick Scheen When my alarm clock blared its message at 5:30 that rainy Sunday morning, all I could think was WHY?! Why in the hell am I giving up my valuable sleep time on a Sunday?! No class project was worth this. Then, fully convicted that I was going to kill someone, I got up. The project itself was relatively simple: the Forum staff members were to get together whatever food items we could, and help serve Sunday brunch to transients under the Fourth South viaduct We had contacted a few people who did it every Sunday, and decided it would be a good thing to do. Besides, we might even be able to get a few good stories out of the ordeal. I had protested this whole idea from the beginning, and was in no mood to change my mind. The weather was a sure sign to me that this was a stupid idea. It was cold, wet, and windy. Why couldnt I just stay in bed?! A Flukey But for some strange reason I stayed, and I will never regret that decision. At about 7:45, the show began. Cars and trucks of all shape and sizes poured into the area. People swarmed like worker ants to help unload trucks and set up tables. It was strange, yet heartwarming to see the transients themselves, who were rapidly growing in number,' standing side by side helping those who were helping them. The work force consisted of about 100-15- scarf for The next thing I knew he was being hauled off to jail. My friends and I went out to see what was going on, just in time to see an ambulance pull up. Two of the truck drivers were being taken to the hospital. The next week I saw him again. I told him that I had seen him get arrested and had tried to help. He didnt seem to remember the incident. I 1 ..- - - basement, and that psychiatrist, Austin. .Theyre crazy. I have a full deck. He rustled in hisjacket pocket, removing papers and cigarettes. He pulled out a deck of cards. See. Theyre all here. Fifty-fou- r cards. He smiles a conspiratory smile. Ive even got two jokers. 0 workers, most of whom belonged to the same church group. It was obvious that some of them had been doing this for some time, because they knew exactly what to do, and where to go. All our group could do was stand and wait for. someone to give us a project. As I moved from table to table doing odd jobs such as stacking doughnuts, peeling carrots, and slicing cheese, I couldnt shake the feeling that was coming over me. I had been so selfish! These people were giving their time, energy, and money every Sunday to people who genuinely needed their help. And I had felt put out about doing this once! My mind was most affected when the organizer announced that she would be there all Thanksgiving and Ive come to feel responsible for Flukey. I Christmas. As the prayer was said and the food served, I slipped away to my car and headed for home. I felt good. It was as though someone had come up to me and surgically removed my Grinch gland. Whoever it was, I thank you. I think this year I can enjoy Christmas fully. You know, he said, Im not crazy. I have an unconscious mind. Ill tell you whos crazy, those men . . . they play cards there in the mach with a hot meal donated by Salt Lakers who by care. Tricia Martinez . About a year ago I worked in a small shop downtown. He would come in every morning from the biting cold of winter, asking if he could stay until he got warm. His name, he said, was Flukey. He broke up the monotony of boring days talking to his cigarettes and chasing customers from the store. I gave him lunch money and bought him cigarettes. I never really thought about where he lived, or how he managed to survive the winter with a constant smile on his face. . One morning my boss came into the store while Flukey was there and promptly threw him out. That night, when leaving work, I saw him sitting in the doorway next to the store. I asked him where he would sleep, and he just looked up at me, smiled and said Right here. I was transferred to another store the next week, but I continued to see him around town, sitting at bus stops, walking down streets and sleeping in doorways. Then one night I was in Howard Johnsons having coffee with friends, and I saw Flukey wearing a womans nightgown over his clothing and trying to get away from three truck drivers who were laughing and teasing him in the parking lot. usually see him once a week. I give him money and cigarettes. I try not to feel guilty as I drive away. I used to soothe my con-- , science by saying that hes on another plane of reality, that hes happy on the street. One day I took him to lunch. We talked about where he came from and how he ended ; up on the street. I used to live somewhere else, he said. Another place. In a big house with other people. I lived there for a long time. I had a job cutting grass. I had cigarettes. I dont know what happened, but one day I must have made them mad. Everyone cried, and I had to leave. I came here on a train. Four fathoms ago, I came here. I dont like winter ... Id go back, but I dont know how. I called the Utah Department of Mental Health. I was told that unless Flukey was severely retarded that they couldnt take him, unless he had family to pay for his treatment because in the last six years, the budget had been cut nearly in half. They recommended a r shelter for the homeless. ... , e Utah has three shelters. I called each one. The waiting lists were two to three months long. I was told by all three shelters that their first priorities were homeless families and maybe I should try the Utah Department of Mental Health for they would be much more capable of dealing with someone with those kinds of problems. ; For now, Flukey showers at the YMCA. He sleeps in Pioneer Park, or sometimes at Volunteers of America, a detoxification facility. Sometimes he sleeps behind laundromats. He doesnt complain. His childlike demeanor is still intact. He smiles and sells kisses to women at bus stops. They give him a dollar to go away. He doesnt understand budget cuts and priorities; he only knows food, and warmth. Hes on another plane of reality; hes happy. Next week Ill take him a scarf. full-tim- , . (OTE TDL IT PEELS (SOOTS Dont forget the Sub-for-San- ta Donation Locations: Dean of Students, Info Booth, Snack Bar, Center for Professional Development, School of Arts and Sciences, School of Business, Library, School of Nursing THERES ONE NEAR YOU THROUGH DEC. 18 Special Christmas Issue |