Wandering in the most unexpected places

When I am not seeking, I wander around.  For some people, they call it loitering.  For the law makers the rule is “No loitering, otherwise, you will be charge with vagrancy.”

I’m not really scared with this ruthless or useless law.  For one, I know a lawyer, I can easily say, sue me or I’ll see you in court.  If not, I have friends in higher places that will defend me, men with guns, aka, cops.

With my wandering round and about especially during coffee or lunch break, the Westside is residential area.  There are a few residents I’ve met along the way and we are all on first name basis.  Most of them are retired, leaving along.  Some looked alone and lonely.

Ian was alone for most times.  Talking to him was a challenge because he speaks in rhymes.  I realized that he was telling me his poems.  It took me awhile to understand his speech because he was toothless.  Vagrant, he is not.  He just sits at the park writing his thoughts of poetry down.

One day, he presented me a booklet of his poems, first edition. What a sweet man.  I received more booklets from him over the years, yet, I don’t know anything personal about him.  But he seemed to enjoy talking to me while I listen.

Recently, I have not seen him around.  Until one day, I saw a fellow who lives in the same building as Ian.  Ian passed away in October last year, he says.

This is a sample of Ian Rudkin’s poetry, page 23. My Song Is In My Step.

Sense Beyond Fueling

I’m responsible for myself;
I’m naturally at home.
Nature is my health
And symptom is this poem.
I heed what I sense
And do what I eat.
I cause a few events
By work and not by feat.
I cannot assume help
Especially what was error.
To help, I try to tell
Some insights, touch and caring.
It seems a truth that women
Have far more sense than taste
In fact the sense for living
On which respect is based.
Signed: Kind Wishes from Ian Rudkin
Spring is here and the weather is getting warmer.  I will miss his presence sitting in  the bench under the shade of maple tree.
Farewell my friend.

34 thoughts on “Wandering in the most unexpected places

  1. Wow – that was a beautiful post Perpetua, and I pray that Ian knew the Lord and went home to be with Him. I also hope you’ll share more of Ian’s poems with us.

    Many blessings,
    Cheryl

    • I can only pray and hope that he does know the Lord. Good thought, I will definitely share more of his poems. If only I can remember where they are.

  2. Lovely post. What a wonderful gift of time you gave him that he returned with the gift of his heartfelt words. A fitting tribute.

  3. You call it wandering, I call it meandering. But its the same thing more or less. I meander on my motorcycle through neighborhoods that are different than mine. I’m curious about how others live, how they’ve chosen to landscape their yards (or not at all as many just stay with the dirt). Its a different experience on a motorcycle than a car because you can “smell” the neighborhood while on a bike..the different foods people cook for meals for instance. I haven’t found a treasure like your Ian but I think your post has given me incentive to study the people of these neighbors more closely. Thanks for sharing!

    • Another word to remember, meander. Since I walk a lot, I have more time to strike a conversation with so many people. Most of them reciprocate and that is the start of a beautiful beginning. Here’s hoping you will find treasure as you meander and thank you for visiting, Rose.

  4. You touched a man’s heart, you shared his inner most thoughts and dreams. Through you he lives on. Through your travels you have touched someone. Keep up the good work.

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