Matthew

05.04.13

Wawa at 21st and Hamilton

 It was a massive traffic, plus I had no sandwiches in my carry-on, and so I tried my luck at the Wawa parking lot. The municipal cars only parking around the corner was the best I could do. I left the lights blinking and dashed into the store. “Good morning, miss, ” greeted me a man in white Penn State sweatshirt. He opened a door and held it for me. The thought that he was hoping for tips made me uncomfortable. Bumping at people I circled the store. I found the sandwich stand and the end of the line at the very same spot at the back wall, and the image of the man at the door surfaced in my mind. “Hello, sir, I am an artist. Would you sit for me for a portrait?” “You want to paint my portrait? Now?” he smiled toothlessly, “sure! I will sit for you!” I was thrilled, “Can you just wait a little? I am parked illegally around the corner. “ “Shure, I’ll wait for you!”

I found a better parking and found him waiting for me. We crossed the street to find a spot on the steps leading to the restaurant terrace. “I am Lena,“ I introduced myself. “Matthew,” he said and added immediately, “you speak more than one language.”  “What a nice way to put it! I am from Russia.” From Saint Petersburg?” He didn’t pronounce it clearly, but I guessed where he was aiming. “No, from Moscow.” He was pleased with the way our conversation went. “Your name must be very long!” “My name is Elena. Lena for short.” “I mean your family name.” “Drozdova.” “Do-z-va,” he laughed. “Dro-zdo-va,” I said. “Dro-zo-va,”he repeated. “Do you come here every day, Lena?” “No, mostly on weekends; I work.” He nodded with respect. “I am homeless,” he said; then continued, “It must be very beautiful where you came from.” “Ye-e-es… But I like it here, too” He looked at me in disbelieve, “Do you?” “Yes. I like parks around here. I love Fairmont Park.” “I live there.” “Under the bridges?” “In the caves.” I knew nothing about the caves, but decided not to specify. “How long have you been homeless?” “For twelve years, on and off” “How did it happen?” “Oh, I was bad! I went to jail… I was in the mental institutions, too, on and off…” “What for?” “Depression. “ He paused. “But today is a good day!” He exclaimed lightheartedly, “I woke up today and thought that god made this day for me to be good.” “What do you think when you wake up and feel depressed?” “Oh, I work around it. I think of how many people have it worse than me. Me, I have friends, food, and there is no war here. People in Syria have it worse!” “ Mathew, you don’t have home, how do you stay current in politics?” “Newspapers. And BBC,” he pointed at the earphones hanging from his shoulders. “You have a lot of good stuff,” I pointed at his bike, “how do you keep it from being stolen?” “I leave it at my friends’ houses, when I have to. I help them with chores.  I have a network…” He sighed, “I have many children,” he said. “Where are they?” “One son was killed, two got life in prison… I had it bad. My marriage was very bad. My daughter went to college. She was the only one… But I tell myself, there must be a balance in this world. God made it good. I believe, that god created this world.” “ Do you go to church?” “Church is not for everyone. I am doing good in this world, especially on the days like this.” “How are you doing good?” “By not doing harm! And by connecting with people.  I believe that god created us all connected, and that it is good for people to have a conversation. See, today you paint my portrait! You are a great artist, yes, you are!” “I don’t know, Matthew…” “Why you don’t know? I am telling you! You are like Cézanne. You know Cézanne?” “Yes…” “ He painted portraits, like you.” “Yes…”  “How do you call it, when people paint pots and apples...?” “Still life…” “Yes, and still life! And Monet painted landscapes. Cezanne, Monet, Renoir, they were impressionists, right?” “Yes…” And who Picasso was?” “He was a modernist.” “Aha!” He smiled again, “I have a passion,” he continued, “My passion is to be good in this world and to be connected with people! You have a passion, too. You are calm when you paint; it’s because painting is your passion.” I kind of liked it. “Yes,” I said. “People are nervous,” he went on, “and you are very calm. I think people are nervous because their parents were. Like when you have a bad heart or headaches, you know what I mean?” “Yes, but I am not sure…” “You mean that society makes people mental?” I laughed, “Sometimes I do. Today I was driving here and saw a lot of people on this nice day running, roller-skating, biking; they all had gadgets; earphones plugged in their ears, pulse readers… and I thought, why everyone has to achieve all the time? Why no one is walking and just listening to the birds?” He laughed, too, “Yeah, ha-ha, why they don’t listen to the birds?”  “Matthew, what education do you have?” “Nine classes of school.” “You have deep thoughts and memory for names and places.”  “Thank you. I read, listen to the radio and talk with people. I talk to people a lot. I learn from people. Today I learned something… “

It was a good day, indeed, and Matthew made it even better for me.