Thursday, December 04 2008, 12:00 AM
Bottomless CL Day!
Sick deals back to back all day long.
I'm an idiot. I was thinking of something else. Penobscot's an entirely different river, obviously. That's the Piscataquaw River dividing Portsmouth, NH and Kittery, ME. Those were the only words ("across the Penobscott River") I added to the excerpts from the newspaper account- I only meant to clarify, not to obfuscate. In retrospect, I don't know why that should've seemed necessary in any right. You know what? I'm not so sure it was even winter. It might've been last Spring. Or the Spring before that- There would've been no snow bank, obviously. Whatever.
I'm pretty lax about picking up my mail. The box is some distance down the road, UPS delivers directly to my doorstep, and -unless I'm expecting something special via USPS- I usually only get around to hitting up the mailbox once a week or so, usually on pay day. When I do get my mail I typically sort through it immediately, separating it into two piles. Sometimes there are a few articles of real mail (rarely much of anything, really- but sometimes a bank statement or whatever) and then there is the inevitable profusion of junk mail. The junk mail is disposed of immediately, and anything that looks important -like a bank statement or whatever- is usually deposited in the top drawer of my desk for future consideration. The theory is that I'll look it over when I have the opportunity. The reality is I'm never going to look at it again, and it only adds to the growing clutter in the desk drawer. I can hardly even open that desk drawer.
In a kind of purgatory between real mail and junkmail lies a no-man's land of mild surprises and head-scratchers. Also in this grey area there are the free weekly periodicals, including two or three community newspapers. I'm often stumped when confronted with the front page headlines that catch my eye there and -as with the real mail- I'm of mixed mind as to whether to dispose of it immediately or maybe keep it around for later perusal. I know I'm never going to actually take the time to read the paper, much as I hate to admit that, but the fact is that I feel guilty about throwing it away, so usually I leave it on the coffee table, where it'll lie undisturbed until I rotate it out when its replacement arrives hot off the presses, next week. What if I miss something important? The reality is that, even without ever turning the first page, I get more local news of interest from glancing at the cover stories of those free local rags than I ever seem to get on-line.
How else would I have learned that Portsmouth had been named Number Four on Outside Magazine's 2008 Best Places To Live list? We're a little jaded in these parts. Number four? Really?
How else would I have learned that I had just missed the entire series of local Criterium Races? Why do they do those things so early in the morning? Who the hell is up at 8:00 am? Must be because of traffic, I suppose. Uggh. One more reason to avoid mornings altogether. I'm not a morning person.
How else would I know that The Governor and The Mayor of Portsmouth had christened our local leg of The East Coast Greenway, a municipal multi-use bicycle path spanning from Maine to Florida? I'll have to check that out. I'll leave mid-morning and avoid peak traffic hours, see how far I get.
The headline that awaited at the mailbox this week was this : REMEMBERING LOTHAR WITH JOY : City mourns ex-homeless man, film subject
The thing that struck me was that I recognized the guy in the photograph. Typical homeless guy from Central Casting, but I definitely recognized him. That was when morbid curiosity set in. That homeless guy who rides around on the bike... I see him everywhere. He's dead? I didn't actually know him or anything , but I did meet him briefly, last year.
It was a cold, snowy evening, probably January or February. There was quite a bit on the ground and piled up in the parking lots, and probably five or six inches of fresh. I had parked the car in the first non-handicapped spot nearest the front corner of the structure's facade, and proximate to the door. I noticed the man on the bicycle, of course. He was wrapped in a dingy overcoat, his watch cap pulled down tight, below his ears, his bushy grey beard freezing about his mouth. Clouds of warm breath billowed from his shadowy countenance as he bent and peered intently into the snowbank. He was looking for something.
Like anyone else, I guess, I can't help but notice homeless people. Not just with pity, but also with dread. I can't say what anyone else feels or doesn't feel when considering the homeless. In full disclosure, I'll just say that I have had the distinct displeasure on more than one occasion to find myself homeless. Never in the winter, I'll stipulate happily. I'm sure I can't even imagine what that would be like. I can tell you that when I consider the homeless I feel distinct pangs of anxiety, sometimes verging on panic. I feel real despair, and fear. I'm no more noble an example of human compassion for it, either. Clearly I am not cut of humanity's finer cloth.
So, I'm not the type to rush right in to help. This might sound like a rationalization, but when you are homeless you exist entirely outside the realm of society. It's not only that you don't fit in; not only that you are largely invisible to society at large. You get over viewing the world from the outside looking in, you grow accustomed to a strikingly different landscape altogether. Things that were important are no longer. Things that didn't matter at all become not just priorities, but assume the entirety of your focus. You are wary of becoming conspicuous; you don't want to draw attention to yourself; you want only to find a place to sleep, undisturbed by the law. So you tend to slink away, to skirt around the perimeter. You skate on past, you look away, maybe thumb a ride to the edge of town. If you hover, it's in shadows, free from prying eyes.
Your entire perception of the world can shift so drastically, as one by one you abandon more mainstream, conventional concepts like shelter and security and nutrition and hygiene. How readily it all unravels. It all is stripped away; all is laid bare. How easily you lose track of things like hope and dignity.
...
The parking lot was a desolate tundra. Hardly pristine, but still- and almost entirely devoid of life. The vague blur of distant traffic faded to nothing, and I had the distinct sensation that it was last call at the supermarket at the end of the world. The snow crunched heartily beneath my feet as I approached the car on that blustery mid-winter's evening. The stars rang out in the ink-black sky, and the shopping cart's unbalanced wheels complained in the drift. I dug in my pocket for the keys. The only sounds were the hiss of my own breath as it was sucked from my lungs in the stinging cold, and the slight squeak of bicycle tires turning slowly in the snow. I stood and regarded the old man.
He was pacing very slowly back and forth along about fifty feet or so of snowbank at the edge of the lot. I'll be honest. The thing that drew my attention first was the bicycle. Old touring setup. Probably a 59 or a 61cm. Steel, of course. I like steel bikes. Braze-ons, fenders. Makeshift panniers. It was too dark to tell what they might have been before they were panniers. There was no light on his bike. It was worthless, actually; the kind of bike you might see at a yard sale with a sign on it that says $10-. You'd know you could probably talk them down on the price, though.
Do you need some help? Did you lose something? I asked him.
No, no. I'm okay. He spoke nearly imperceptibly, and without looking at me.
I think I have a light in the car. Let me put these away.
I continued moving the bags to the car, thinking, if he's still there I'll grab that l.e.d. from the glove box and offer again to help. Momentarily distracted by the task at hand, the homeless guy on the bike drifted from my immediate attention. When the last bag was safely stowed behind the passenger seat, I shuffled through the glove box for the l.e.d. light, but glancing up, I saw that he was gone.
He was plodding methodically away from the vicinity of my car, then around the corner of the supermarket, toward the loading dock. So that was it. I never thought twice about it, not until a couple of hours ago, this evening. I guess I'm about a week behind the weekly news cycle here, because this is last week's paper, dated Friday, Nov. 28. Today's Thursday, Dec. 4. That means Lothar passed Sunday, Nov. 23, 2008.
The city lost a shining star when Lothar Patten died suddenly on Sunday, from what friends believe was a heart attack.
Wait a minute. I read it again. A "shining star"? The homeless bike guy? I read on. He was 59. He was regularly seen riding his bike around town- yep, I'll vouch for that.
He rose to local celebrity stature during the 2004 presidential campaign as the subject of a documentary... film, "The Nice Man Cometh"... interacting with the candidates from the perspective of the homeless.
...awarded the Best Documentary at the 2005 CheapShot LA Film/Video Festival...
He wrote a book, "The Diary of a Nice Man." His MySpace page lists his occupation as writer.
Born in Germany in 1950... was no longer homeless but had lived at times in the Sagamore Graveyard, underneath the bridge that connects mainland Portsmouth to Pierce Island and in the woods of Mount Agamenticus, across the Penobscott River in York, Maine.
His friendly nature touched the hearts of everyone who met him. He was a regular at Caffe Kilim on Islington Street and died at the corner by the coffee shop.
endearing... inquisitive and loving... he touched a lot of lives... always positive... "Lothar always had something nice to say."
"His life wasn't easy but you'd never know that by talking to him."
people have been gathering where (he) fell and have created a small vigil for him...
"Lothar... was a great man and I learned a lot from him about what it means to be a human being... he was gentle, kind and whimsical... always quick with a smile... joy is what I think of when I think of Lothar."
"(Lothar) left unfinished business... he was working on a book, "Homeless By The Sea."
Hmm. I don't know where I was going with this. It's getting late. I might be completely wrong about everything. I might have it all wrong. I have an unnerving feeling that I might have missed something important. I might not be a good human being. I might not have the right gratitude. I might not have the right compassion. I might be too afraid. I might be too despairing. I might be too distant, too removed.
The parking lot was a desolate tundra. Hardly pristine, but still- and almost entirely devoid of life. The vague blur of distant traffic faded to nothing, and I had the distinct sensation that it was last call at the supermarket at the end of the world. The snow crunched heartily beneath my feet as I approached the car on that blustery mid-winter's evening. The stars rang out in the ink-black sky, and the shopping cart's unbalanced wheels complained in the drift. I dug in my pocket for the keys. The only sounds were the hiss of my own breath as it was sucked from my lungs in the stinging cold, and the slight squeak of bicycle tires turning slowly in the snow. I stood and regarded the old man.
...ain't it? As long as BC doesn't try to push the Maxxis Tire Curtains on us, I guess.
These were pulled because the copy was wrong. It will be fixed and they will be back. Be ready.
Double-Blast and doh! again. That would've made a nice gift- copy should specify four glasses. My favorite ones were free from Earl's Albino Rhino in Whistler Village, but I'm reformed now. Doesn't look like the Pedros set sold out, so they'll probably be offered again...
They could compromise and do "Please Hit F5, Fool"
FYI - Picture is accurate for "black/white/red" there is no red. It's "black/white/gray"
It was FOUR pint glasses? DOH.. I woulda picked them up for that much!
Thanks I didn't know you could search back.
Looks like they only listed the Gavia in a woman's model. I would love a COLD weather Pearl jacket.
awesome, just picked up a pair. all this whining paid off. I bought the shorts a while ago and they are great, so I can't wait to get the pants now for the cooler/wetter weather. thanks chainlove.
Bring it back, baby! I'm not into the politeness of "please refresh"!
Bigsac,
Gearattack.com maintains a database of what's been on on all of backcountry's odt websites:
http://gearattack.com/search?q=gavia&commit=Search
Has the Pearl Izumi Gavia jacket ever been featured on CL?
http://www.backcountry.com/store/PLZ0241/Pearl-Izumi-Gavia-Jacket-Mens.html
that did seem a bit expencive for just one cup and bottle opener
Believe it or not this is actually FOUR pint glasses with Pedros bitchin' "Beverage Wrench."
Cheers!
BB
lol sorry in my Google Chrome browser the price was showing as $33.44 for some reason, and no image.
Now I see the $13.44.
Google Chrome bites.
I would love to get some trainers for you guys but it's not going to be possible. Sorry. The Pint Glass is sweet for all you drinkers that have a biking problem. ;)
But you really need two glasses.
Drinking alone is just depressing :)
but it seems the CycleOps Fluid 2 is selling well enough on it's own.