Tribute to 'Dougie Big Feet'

Off Topic
1

I was in the changing room today, and a guy who was obviously of some ‘special needs’ started talking to me. I made conversation with him, while I changed and tried to be cordial when I left.

For some reason, this reminded me of a guy I sort of knew back in high school.

‘Dougie Big Feet’ was a great big guy, who wore about size 15 Basket Masters. He was probably in his 30’s somewhere, although it was hard to tell. I believe he had some kind of degenerative disease, because he seemed to get worse off as time went on.

He walked with a cane, and patrolled a wide range of the neighborhood collecting pop cans and bottles, and changing the calenders in the local businesses. I worked in the local drug store and Dougie came in daily. The boss / pharmacist, was quite the asshole, but he was pretty good to Dougie. He was polite, anyhow.

My buddy and I bought Dougie a shopping cart at a garage sale once, and Dougie could use it to support himself, and to hold his found treasures. One day, he came into the pharmacy, and he was just freaking. Apparently, the night before, some cops had accused him of ripping off the shopping cart, and thought he was drunk. I don’t know if they were just from out of town, or being cocksuckers…

Anyhow, I believe that I heard many years ago that Dougie had died. For some reason, the guy in the changing room today made me think of him.

I think that Dougie really was a T-Man at heart, because he never gave up. Every fucken day, rain or shine, he was out, doing his thing, collecting cans, and changing calenders.

I guess remembering ‘Dougie’ just inspired me somehow…

|/ 3Toes

2

When I was a kid, my family lived on a dead end street. There was a guy like Dougie that lived a shack with his mother. The guy’s name was Bert. Bert was in his 40’s maybe. He collected junk. His yard was a mess. His mother was a crone. Young kids in the neighborhood were afraid of him. Older kids taunted him.

One day when I was in the 3rd grade the local paperboy was afraid to deliver a paper to the house across the street from Bert’s because there was a viscious dog sitting on the doorstep. Being a little T-man in training I volunteered to deliver the paper. I got bit. The paperboy ran.

It was Bert that came, picked me up and carried me home. I can only imagine what my mother thought when Bert showed up on my back stairs carrying me in his arms.