Old Willie, who’ve I’ve written about, I see in and around Starbucks in the morning, found a radio…a little transistor that has seen better days.
Taped, scratched, the kind you had when you were a kid, but if you saw him with it, you’d think he found gold.
Must be tough living in a wheelchair, sleeping under an awning or subway entrance, and I’ve noticed since spring, despite a better wheelchair, Willie has taken a turn.
He used to stay in a halfway house at night, but no more. Was it his decision, the state’s? I don’t know, and he’s not a soul who opens up, his privacy and choice to share are what little he has left, but back to his radio.
As I write, I’m watching his face shine in contentment listening to some early program, reminding myself, the smallest thing can switch on a light as well as an AM FM station.
Later on that day…
On my way home, I see Willie again, parked on 84th and Lex, radio on…foot tapping. I hand him a little bag that, when peeked into, produces a huge smile.
It was filled with AA Batteries.