We have a new puppy and the disabled guy decided that she needed to be in the living room instead of in the kitchen. So he rigged up a little area to keep her in the living room, but safely gated from the clumsy big dog and other Chihuahuas. They wouldn't purposefully hurt a puppy- especially since Luna just had puppies (they're all gone but one). Anyway, the puppy area blocks the front door. It isn't a problem because its short-term. In a few days, she'll be out of the way.
So, when someone knocked on our door, Ceej said, "Its some guy..."
I walked out the back door and came around to the front. I asked if I could help him. I figured he was probably one of those religious door-to-door folks (they came through last week). He said he was looking for some of the signs of when they established this neighborhood. That's not so far-fetched. Aerial maps of this area from the very early 1900s show one house was here, but its hard to tell if its our house or the one next door. Down the street is an old concrete post that used to be a street sign (back before all our cars were twelve feet tall). So I asked if he was looking for anything in particular. As he was talking and pointing, I realized he didn't have a car.
He told me he was looking for a church that used to be around here. The closest church in the direction he was pointing was quite a ways over the hill. I told him that. When he looked at me, he seemed surprised to see me standing with him. I asked how far he'd walked to get here and he said some things about the downtown area- old brick buildings and such.
When I asked him his name, I had to ask three times. When he searched for the words to tell me his name, I realized he was probably not supposed to be out alone. I asked him his name again, to make sure I'd heard it correctly (he has a last name for a first name- which I'm not posting here, but you know the kinds of names that are last names, but can be used as first names). So I asked if he knew my dad- and said my dad's name. He perked up at that name. "It sounds familiar," he told me.
"Oh, well, he's a Mason, are you a Mason?" He perked up a bit when I asked if he was a Mason.
He started mumbling again and I couldn't hear him (the traffic is quite loud at that time of the day- school's let out and such). Through all this, he kept saying "Praise the Lord" and "Praise Him!", sometimes even singing it. I asked him if he'd like to come around back with me and sit in the shade (my house faces West, so it was hot). He started to follow me and I pulled out my mobile. "Let me call my dad, I bet he knows someone who can help..." I figured if he was a Mason, my dad would know him, being a several-time past master.
He said, "Oh, well, okay!" and he followed me to the backyard. "This is really pretty! I like this..." as we passed my little flowerbed and up onto the deck. We sat in the shade and I got him some water.
I asked if he was married and he became confused and went back to praising the Lord and singing. My dad arrived and he didn't know him. So he called the police- which I would have done, but when he perked up about hearing my dad's name and about the Masons.
He was here a long time. He sang the words "Praise the Lord" over and over. Every once in a while, he would look over at my dad, who was talking to the disabled guy in the shop. And I'd tell him again, who they were. "Oh, well, praise them. That's real nice, praise them..." Every time Gypsy would start barking (inside the house), he'd exclaim, "Well! That's a whole lotta noise!" And I'd tell him she was our big dog and why we had a big dog. "He's certainly doing his job!" (scaring people as protection).
I tried to get him to talk, about kids or spouses or where he walked from, but he usually mumbled, asked me to repeat myself or just sighed sadly. Then back to the repeated "Praise the Lord" singing. My dad came back up on the deck and we talked for a bit and I updated my Facebook status from my phone (I had just posted a note about hate mail that I got from a Regretsy troll). Then my dad disappeared to the front of the house. I figured the police were here. He came back and called out, "Hey, [guy's name], there's someone here for you!"
I said, "Let's go around front, someone's here to help you."
He seemed genuinely surprised. "Here? Oh, let's go..." he stood up and my dad said it was his wife.
I left my dad with him and went to talk to his wife. I told my dad to have him watch his step as they came down the steps of the deck. When I walked away from them, Dad was telling him to take his arm.
The man and his wife live less than a half a mile away, almost just around the corner. So he hadn't walked as far as it seemed. She said he keeps trying to go back to the church they passed on the way into town when they moved here. He's a retired pastor. She said he wandered away before, but she always caught him. She called 911 and when she told them what happened, they told her he was at our house. She looked like she had just woken up- slightly disheveled and surprisingly calm for the situation. But by the time I talked to her, she knew he was safe. If I had seen her earlier, she would have been a wreck. Now we know what to do if we see him again, we know where he lives.
After they left, my dad said, "He really needs to be in a home."
It could have turned out much worse and I'm glad it was our crazy house he decided to knock on instead of someone else who is truly crazy or wouldn't have cared enough to help.
So, when someone knocked on our door, Ceej said, "Its some guy..."
I walked out the back door and came around to the front. I asked if I could help him. I figured he was probably one of those religious door-to-door folks (they came through last week). He said he was looking for some of the signs of when they established this neighborhood. That's not so far-fetched. Aerial maps of this area from the very early 1900s show one house was here, but its hard to tell if its our house or the one next door. Down the street is an old concrete post that used to be a street sign (back before all our cars were twelve feet tall). So I asked if he was looking for anything in particular. As he was talking and pointing, I realized he didn't have a car.
He told me he was looking for a church that used to be around here. The closest church in the direction he was pointing was quite a ways over the hill. I told him that. When he looked at me, he seemed surprised to see me standing with him. I asked how far he'd walked to get here and he said some things about the downtown area- old brick buildings and such.
When I asked him his name, I had to ask three times. When he searched for the words to tell me his name, I realized he was probably not supposed to be out alone. I asked him his name again, to make sure I'd heard it correctly (he has a last name for a first name- which I'm not posting here, but you know the kinds of names that are last names, but can be used as first names). So I asked if he knew my dad- and said my dad's name. He perked up at that name. "It sounds familiar," he told me.
"Oh, well, he's a Mason, are you a Mason?" He perked up a bit when I asked if he was a Mason.
He started mumbling again and I couldn't hear him (the traffic is quite loud at that time of the day- school's let out and such). Through all this, he kept saying "Praise the Lord" and "Praise Him!", sometimes even singing it. I asked him if he'd like to come around back with me and sit in the shade (my house faces West, so it was hot). He started to follow me and I pulled out my mobile. "Let me call my dad, I bet he knows someone who can help..." I figured if he was a Mason, my dad would know him, being a several-time past master.
He said, "Oh, well, okay!" and he followed me to the backyard. "This is really pretty! I like this..." as we passed my little flowerbed and up onto the deck. We sat in the shade and I got him some water.
I asked if he was married and he became confused and went back to praising the Lord and singing. My dad arrived and he didn't know him. So he called the police- which I would have done, but when he perked up about hearing my dad's name and about the Masons.
He was here a long time. He sang the words "Praise the Lord" over and over. Every once in a while, he would look over at my dad, who was talking to the disabled guy in the shop. And I'd tell him again, who they were. "Oh, well, praise them. That's real nice, praise them..." Every time Gypsy would start barking (inside the house), he'd exclaim, "Well! That's a whole lotta noise!" And I'd tell him she was our big dog and why we had a big dog. "He's certainly doing his job!" (scaring people as protection).
I tried to get him to talk, about kids or spouses or where he walked from, but he usually mumbled, asked me to repeat myself or just sighed sadly. Then back to the repeated "Praise the Lord" singing. My dad came back up on the deck and we talked for a bit and I updated my Facebook status from my phone (I had just posted a note about hate mail that I got from a Regretsy troll). Then my dad disappeared to the front of the house. I figured the police were here. He came back and called out, "Hey, [guy's name], there's someone here for you!"
I said, "Let's go around front, someone's here to help you."
He seemed genuinely surprised. "Here? Oh, let's go..." he stood up and my dad said it was his wife.
I left my dad with him and went to talk to his wife. I told my dad to have him watch his step as they came down the steps of the deck. When I walked away from them, Dad was telling him to take his arm.
The man and his wife live less than a half a mile away, almost just around the corner. So he hadn't walked as far as it seemed. She said he keeps trying to go back to the church they passed on the way into town when they moved here. He's a retired pastor. She said he wandered away before, but she always caught him. She called 911 and when she told them what happened, they told her he was at our house. She looked like she had just woken up- slightly disheveled and surprisingly calm for the situation. But by the time I talked to her, she knew he was safe. If I had seen her earlier, she would have been a wreck. Now we know what to do if we see him again, we know where he lives.
After they left, my dad said, "He really needs to be in a home."
It could have turned out much worse and I'm glad it was our crazy house he decided to knock on instead of someone else who is truly crazy or wouldn't have cared enough to help.