I often think about the past. I guess it is a professional hazzard. Faces of friends whom I have not seen since I left graduate school, snatches of conversations, fragments of life, and at times, the grim remindre that even in this day of internet and e-mail some friends have just slipped from our lives. Nearly twenty years ago, just as I was finishing my education at the University of Hawaii, Manoa, I used to work as a store clerk at one of the several shops and departmental stores in the lanes behind Ala Moana near Waikiki. The shift that was usually given to me was the "graveyard shift" in which I had to sit before the cash counter of the store from mid night till 8 in the morning. I liked that shift because there were few customers and there was lots of time to read and write. Nearby was a used book store called Freddies and I used to pick up a few books almost every week to read. The pay was not much, but I put my self through graduate school with the aid of such low skilled low paying jobs. I remember that I used to be paid $ 5.50 an hour.
I do not know or remember when he first entered the shop. But every day at around 2 or so in tyhe morning Thumper, as he called himself, used to come and buy a few things like cigarettes, bread and some odds and ends. Since I was new to the job I allowed him to pay for his cigarettes with "food stamps" not realising that food stamps could not be used for such purchases. The next day when the manager arrived, he just blew his top. He was not a bad sort. Being a Japanese American, he had definite ideas about hard work and making a decent living. He threatened to dock my pay if I did not recover the amount from Thumper.
I waited for Thumper to walk into the store and as he came close to the counter told him gently that he had sort of got me into trouble. "How", he demanded. I told him about the carton of cigarettes that he had bought with food stamps and that the manager was wild at me. I asked him to pay for the cigarettes in cash and I would settle his food items with stamps given a few days back.
Thumper looked worried and disoriented. " I have no money", he said, almost apologetically." I will give you the cash ffor the cigarettes tomorrow". Well, I said to my self, that will be the last time I'll see him.
The next day he came and I felt rather ashamed of my self for doubting his words. He may be poor and homeless, but he had honor and I was wrong in thinking otherwise. Inany event from that unlikely beginning, we became friends and he used to keep me company in the store as I struggled with the accounts inventory and the statment for handing over the cash the next day.
Thumper was not your everyday streeperson. I hate to use that word to describe my friend, but that is how he described himself. He was born somewhere on the Eastr coast and had a good education. I think he once told me that he had a college degree in Languages. After a tour of duty in Vietnam he returned to find that his wife had left him and nobody had the time of day for old Thumper. He found that he just did not fit into his society anynore. He has his Veterans pension and little else. Without a job and a society that had turned hostile to him, Thumper decided to leave for Hawaii as the winter on the east coast was just too terrible for him to bear.
Throughout the time I worked at the store and was in Honolulu, Thumper and I were friends. In moments of utter despair, I found in him a source of great strength. He was a man of great compassion. I found much later that he spent most of his military pension feeding stray animals all over Waikiki. Home was a shack in a street called Bertania and everyday at around 8 in the evening Thumper arrived at his favorite bench near the beach and watch passers go by. He always carried a kit bag which contained a few faded pictures and his military discharge papers. I used to tease him about the discharge papers he carried so carefully. He said those were the only documents that connect him with society and nothing else.
I left Hawaii in 1987 and have not returned since. My life moved on. I took up a job and am living far far away. Yet I sometimes think of that old friend who taught me to bear with courage and fortitude all that life can throw. My life too has not been an easy one, but the time I spent with Thumper has taught me to appreciate the small mercies of life.
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